t 


1 

1 

1 

1 

I 

•■   ! 

^ 

H 

:  1 

§s 

i 

s<- 

js< 

• 

;:.;; 

i : 

^ 

1 

w: 

■ 

E 

FT 


1 

-     .     .      i 

i       \ 

]     j 

THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


TRUE   STORIES 


FROM 


HISTORY  AND    BIOGRAPHY 

BY 

NATHANIEL   HAWTHORNE 
TWENTY-SECOND  EDITION 


BOSTON 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND   COMPANY 

C&c  Bibcrsitic  Press,  Cambrifcjje 


wj/^-Z-^-^-  r^£? 


y</o 


Copyrigtit,  1850. 
By  NATHANIEL   HAWTHORNE. 


Copyright,  1878. 
By  HOSE   HAWTHORNE   LATHROP. 


-  /  ±r 


THE    WHOLE    HISTORY 


GRANDFATHER'S    CHAIR. 


63037 


PREFACE. 

In  writing  this  ponderous  tome,  the  author's  desire  has 
been  to  describe  the  eminent  characters  and  remarkable 
events  of  our  annals  in  such  a  form  and  style  that  the 
young  may  make  acquaintance  with  them  of  their  own 
accord.  For  thi3  purpose,  while  ostensibly  relating  the 
adventures  of  a  chair,  he  has  endeavored  to  keep  a  dis- 
tinct and  unbroken  thread  of  authentic  history.  The 
chair  is  made  to  pass  from  one  to  another  of  those  per- 
sonages of  whom  he  thought  it  most  desirable  for  the 
voung  reader  to  have  vivid  and  familiar  ideas,  and  whose 
lives  and  actions  would  best  enable  him  to  give  picturesque 
sketches  of  the  times.  On  its  sturdy  oaken  legs  it 
trudges  diligently  from  one  scene  to  another,  and  seems 
always  to  thrust  itself  in  the  way,  with  most  benign  com- 
placency, whenever  an  historical  personage  happens  to  b« 
looking  round  for  a  seat. 

(3) 


*  PREFACE. 

There  is  certainly  nc  method  by  which  the  shadowy 
outlines  of  departed  men  and  women  can  be  made  to 
assume  the  hues  of  life  more  effectually  than  by  con- 
necting their  images  with  the  substantial  and  homely 
reality  of  a  fireside  chair.  It  causes  us  to  feel  at  once 
that  these  characters  of  history  had  a  private  and 
familiar  existence,  and  were  not  wholly  contained  within 
that  cold  array  of  outward  action  which  we  are  com- 
pelled to  receive  as  the  adequate  representation  of 
their  lives.  If  this  impression  can  be  given,  much  it, 
accomplished. 

Setting  aside  Grandfather  and  his  auditors,  and 
excepting  the  adventures  of  the  chair,  which  form  the 
machinery  of  the  work,  nothing  in  the  ensuing  pages 
can  be  termed  fictitious.  The  author,  it  is  true,  has 
sometimes  assumed  the  license  of  filling  up  the  outline 
of  history  with  details  for  which  he  has  none  but 
imaginative  authority,  but  which,  he  hopes,  do  not 
violate  nor  give  a  false  coloring  to  the  truth.  He 
believes  that,  in  this  respect,  his  narrative  will  not  be 
found  to  convey  ideas  and  impressions  of  which  the 
reader  may  hereafter  find  it  necessary  to  purge  his 
mind. 


PREFACE.  6 

The  author's  great  doubt  is,  whether  he  has  suc- 
ceeded in  writing  a  book  which  will  be  readable  by 
the  class  for  whom  he  intends  it.  To  make  a  lively 
and  entertaining  narrative  for  children,  with  such 
unmalleable  material  as  is  presented  by  the  sombre, 
stern,  and  rigid  characteristics  of  the  Puritans  and 
their  descendants,  is  quite  as  difficult  an  attempt  as  to 
manufacture  delicate  playthings  out  of  the  granite  rocka 
on  which  New  England  is  founded. 


GBAOFATHER'S    CHAIK. 


PAKT    I. 

CHAPTER    1. 


Grandfather  had  been  sitting  in  his  old  arm 
chair  all  that  pleasant  afternoon,  while  the  children 
were  pursuing  their  various  sports  far  off  or  near  at 
hand.  Sometimes  you  would  have  said,  "Grand- 
father is  asleep ; "  but  still,  even  when  his  eyes  were 
closed,  his  thoughts  were  with  the  young  people, 
playing  among  the  flowers  and"  shrubbery  of  the 
garden. 

He  heard  the  voice  of  Laurence,  who  had  taken 
possession  of  a  heap  of  decayed  branches  which  the 
gardener  had  lopped  from  the  fruit  trees,  and  was 
building  a  little  hut  for  his  cousin  Clara  and  himself 
He  heard  Clara's  gladsome  voice,  too,  as  she  weeded 

(9) 


10  grandfather's   chair. 

and  watered  the  flower  bed  which  had  been  given 
her  for  her  own.  He  could  have  counted  every  foot- 
step that  Charley  took,  as  he  trundled  his  wheelbar 
row  along  the  gravel  walk.  And  though  Grand- 
father was  old  and  gray  haired,  yet  his  heart  leaped 
\*  ith  joy  whenever  little  Alice  came  fluttering,  like 
a  butterfly,  into  the  room.  She  had  made  each  oi 
the  children  her  olaymate  in  turn,  and  now  made 
Grandfather  her  playmate  too,  and  thought  him  the 
merriest  of  them  all. 

At  last  the  children  grew  weary  of  their  sports  \ 
because  a  summer  afternoon  is  like  a  long  lifetime  to 
the  young.  So  they  came  into  the  room  together 
and  clustered  round  Grandfather's  great  chair.  Lit- 
tle Alice,  who  was  hardly  five  years  old,  took  the 
privilege  of  the  youngest,  and  climbed  his  knee.  It 
was  a  pleasant  thing  to  behold  that  fair  and  golden- 
haired  child  in  the  lap  of  the  old  man,  and  to  think 
that,  different  as  they  were,  the  hearts  of  both  could 
be  gladdened  with  the  same  joys. 

"  Grandfather,"  said  little  Alice,  laying  her  head 
back  upon  his  arm,  "  I  am  very  tired  now.  You 
must  tell  me  a  story  to  make  me  go  to  sleep." 

"  That  is  not  what  story  tellers  like,"  answered 
Grandfather,  smiling.  "  They  are  better  satisfied 
when  they  can  keep  their  auditors  awake." 

"  )/**ut  here  are  Laurence,  and  Charley,  and  I," 
criei?    cousin  Clara,  who  was  twice  as  old  as  little 


GRANDFATHER  S     CHAIR.  1 1 

Alice.  "  We  will  all  three  keep  wide  awake.  And 
pray,  Grandfather,  tell  us  a  story  about  this  strange- 
looking  old  chair." 

Now,  the  chair  in  which  Grandfather  sat  was  made 
of  oak,  which  had  grown  dark  with  age,  but  had 
been  rubbed  and  polished  till  it  shone  as  bright  as 
mahogany.  It  was  very  large  and  heavy,  and  had  a 
back  that  rose  high  above  Grandfather's  white  head. 
This  back  was  curiously  carved  in  open  work,  so  as 
to  represent  flowers,  and  foliage,  and  other  devices, 
which  the  children  had  often  gazed  at,  but  could 
never  understand  what  they  meant.  On  the  very  tip- 
cop  of  the  chair,  over  the  head  of  Grandfather  him- 
self, was  a  likeness  of  a  lion's  head,  which  had  such 
a  savage  grin  that  you  would  almost  expect  to  hear 
it  growl  and  snarl. 

The  children  had  seen  Grandfather  sitting  in  this 
chair  ever  since  they  could  remember  any  thing. 
Perhaps  the  younger  of  them  supposed  that  he  and 
the  chair  had  come  into  the  world  together,  and  that 
both  had  always  been  as  old  as  they  were  now.  At 
this  time,  however,  it  happened  to  be  the  fashion  for 
ladies  to  adorn  their  drawing  rooms  with  the  oldest 
and  oddest  chairs  that  could  be  found.  It  seemed  to 
cousin  Clara  that,  if  these  ladies  could  have  seen 
Grandfather's  old  chair,  they  would  have  tbought  it 
worth  all  the  rest  together.  She  wondered  if  it  were 
not  even  older  than  Grandfather  himself,  and  longed 
to  know  all  about  its  history. 


12  grandfather's   chair. 

"  Dcx,  Grandfather,  talk  to   us  about  this  chair, 
she  repeated. 

""Well,  child,"  said  Grandfather,  patting  Clara's 
cheek,  "  I  can  tell  you  a  great  many  stories  of  my 
chair.  Perhaps  your  cousin  Laurence  would  like  to 
hear  them  too.  They  would  teach  him  something 
about  the  history  and  distinguished  people  of  his 
country  which  he  has  never  read  in  any  of  his 
school  books." 

Cousin  Laurence  was  a  boy  of  twelve,  a  bright 
scholar,  in  whom  an  early  thoughtfulness  and  sensi- 
bility began  to  show  themselves.  His  young  fancy 
kindled  at  the  idea  of  knowing  all  the  adventures  of 
this  venerable  chair.  He  looked  eagerly  in  Grand- 
father's face ;  and  even  Charley,  a  bold,  brisk,  rest- 
less little  fellow  of  nine,  sat  himself  down  on  the 
carpet,  and  resolved  to  be  quiet  for  at  least  ten  min- 
utes, should  the  story  last  so  long. 

Meantime,  little  Alice  was  already  asleep ;  so 
Grandfather,  being  much  pleased  with  such  an  at- 
tentive audience,  began  to  talk  about  matters  that 
happened  long  ago. 


CHAPTER    II. 

But  before  relating  the  adventures  of  the  chair, 
Grandfather  found  it  necessary  to  speak  of  the  cir- 
cumstances that  caused  the  first  settlement  of  New 
England.  •  For  it  will  soon  be  perceived  that  the 
story  of  this  remarkable  chair  cannot  be  told  without 
telling  a  great  deal  of  the  history  of  the  country. 

So  Grandfather  talked  about  the  Puritans,  as  those 
persons  were  called  who  thought  it  sinful  to  practise 
the  religious  forms  and  ceremonies  which  the  church 
of  England  had  borrowed  from  the  Eoman  Catholics. 
These  Puritans  suffered  so  much  persecution  in  Eng- 
land, that,  in  160T,  many  of  them  went  over  to  Hol- 
land, and  lived  ten  or  twelve  years  at  Amsterdam 
and  Ley  den.  But  they  feared  that,  if  they  continued 
there  much  longer,  they  should  cease  to  be  English, 
and  should  adopt  all  the  manners,  and  ideas,  and  feel- 
ings of  the  Dutch.  For  this  and  other  reasons,  in 
the  year  16  20  they  embarked  on  board  of  the  ship 
Mayflower,  and  crossed  the  ocean  to  the  shores  of 
Cape  Cod.     There  they  made  a  settlement,  and  called 

(13) 


14  grandfather's    chair. 

it  Plymouth,  which,  though  now  a  part  of  Massachu 
setts,  was  for  a  long  time  a  colony  by  itself.  And 
thus  was  formed  the  earliest  settlement  of  the 
Puritans  in  America 

Meantime,  those  of  the  Puritans  wrho  remained  in 
England  continued  to  suffer  grievous  persecution  on 
account  of  their  religious  opinions.  They  began  to 
look  around  them  for  some  spot  where  they  might 
worship  God,  not  as  the  king  and  bishops  thought 
fit,  but  according  to  the  dictates  of  their  own  con- 
sciences. When  their  brethren  had  gone  from  Hol- 
land to  America,  they  bethought  themselves  that  they 
likewise  might  find  refuge  from  persecution  there. 
Several  gentlemen  among  them  purchased  a  tract  of 
country  on  the  coast  of  Massachusetts  Bay,  and  ob- 
tained a  charter  from  King  Charles,  which  authorized 
them  to  make  laws  for  the  settlers.  In  the  yea^r 
1628  they  sent  over  a  few  people,  with  John  Endi- 
cott  at  their  head,  to  commence  a  plantation  at 
Salem.  Peter  Palfrey,  Roger  Conant,  and  one  or' 
two  more,  had  built  houses  there  in  1626,  and  may 
be  considered  as  the  first  settlers  of  that  ancient 
town.  Many  other  Puritans  prepared  to  follow 
Endicott. 

"  And  now  we  come  to  the  chair,  my  dear  chil- 
dren," said  Grandfather.  "  This  chair  is  supposed 
to  have  been  made  of  an  oak  tree  which  grew  in  the 
park  of  the  English  Earl  of  Lincoln,  between   two 


grandfather's  chair.  1 

and  three  centuries  ago.  In  its  younger  days  it 
used,  probably,  to  stand  in  the  hall  of  the  earl's  cas- 
tle. Do  not  you  see  the  coat  of  arms  of  the  family 
of  Lincoln  carved  in  the  open  work  of  the  back  ? 
But  when  his  daughter,  the  Lady  Arbella,  was  mar- 
ried to  a  certain  Mr.  Johnson,  the  earl  gave  her  this 
valuable  chair." 

"  "Who  was  Mr.  Johnson  ?  "  inquired  Clara. 

"  He  was,  a  gentleman  of  great  wealth,  who  agreed 
with  the  Puritans  in  their  religious  opinions,"  an- 
swered Grandfather.  "  And  as  his  belief  was  the 
6ame  as  theirs,  he  resolved  that  he  would  live  and  die 
with  them.  Accordingly,  in  the  month  of  April, 
1630,  he  left  his  pleasant  abode  and  all  his  comforts 
in  England,  and  embarked,  with  the  Lady  Arbella, 
on  board  of   a  ship  bound  for  America." 

As  Grandfather  was  frequently  impeded  by  the 
questions  and  observations  of  his  young  auditors,  we 
deem  it  advisable  to  omit  all  such  prattle  as  is  not 
essential  to  the  story.  "We  have  taken  some  pains  to 
find  out  exactly  what  Grandfather  said,  and  here  of- 
fer to  our  readers,  as  r early  as  possible  in  his  own 
vrords,  the  story  of 

THE   LADY   ARBELLA. 

The  ship  in  which  Mr.  Johnson  and  his  lady  era- 
b   rked,  taking  Grandfather's  chair  along  with  them, 


16  grandfather's  chair. 

was  called  the  Arbella,  in  honor  of  the  lady  nerself 
A  fleet  of  ten  or  twelve  vessels,  with  many  hun- 
dred passengers,  left  England  about  the  same  time  • 
for  a  multitude  of  people,  who  were  discontented  with 
the  king's  government  and  oppressed  by  the  bishops, 
were  flocking  over  to  the  new  world.  One  of  the 
vessels  in  the  fleet  was  that  same  Mayflower  winch 
had  carried  the  Puritan  Pilgrims  to  Plymouth.  And 
now,  my  children,  I  would  have  you  fancy  your- 
selves in  the  cabin  of  the  good  ship  Arbella ;  be- 
cause, if  you  could  behold  the  passengers  aboard  that 
vessel,  you  would  feel  what  a  blessing  and  honor  it 
was  for  New  England  to  have  such  settlers.  They 
were  the  best  men  and  women  of  their  day. 

Among  the  passengers  was  John  Winthrop,  who 
had  sold  the  estate  of  his  forefathers,  and  was  going 
to  prepare  a  new  home  for  his  wife  and  children  in 
the  wilderness.  He  had  the  king's  charter  in  his 
keeping,  and  was  appointed  the  first  governor  of 
Massachusetts.  Imagine  him  a  person  of  grave  and 
benevolent  aspect,  dressed  in  a  black  velvet  suit,  with 
a  broad  ruff  around  his  neck,  and  a  peaked  beard  up- 
on his  chin.  There  was  likewise  a  minister  of  the 
gospel  whom  the  English  bishops  had  forbidden  to 
preach,  but  who  knew  that  he  should  have  liberty  both 
to  preach  and  pray  in  the  forests  of  America.  He  wore 
a  black  cloak,  called  a  Geneva  cloak,  and  had  a  black 
velvet  cap,  fitting  close  to  his  head,  as  was  the  fashion 


GRANDFATHER  S    CHAIR. 

ot  almost  all  the  Puritan  clergymen.  In  their  com- 
pany came  Sir  Richard  Saltonstall,  who  had  been  one 
of  the  five  first  projectors  of  the  new  colony.  He 
soon  returned  to  his  native  country.  But  his  de- 
scendants still  remain  in  New  England ;  and  the 
good  old  family  name  is  as  much  respected  in  our 
days  as  it  was  in  those  of   Sir  Richard. 

Not  only  these,  but  several  other  men  of  wealth 
and  pious  ministers  were  in  the  cabin  of  the  Ar- 
bella.  One  had  banished  himself  forever  from  the 
old  hall  where  his  ancestors  had  lived  for  hundreds 
of  years.  Another  had  left  his  quiet  parsonage,  in  a 
country  town  of  England.  Others  had  come  from 
the  Universities  of  Oxford  or  Cambridge,  where  they 
had  gained  great  fame  for  their  learning.  And  here 
they  all  were,  tossing  upon  the  uncertain  and  danger- 
ous sea,  and  bound  for  a  home  that  was  more  dan- 
gerous than  even  the  sea  itself.  In  the  cabin,  like- 
wise, sat  the  Lady  Arbella  in  her  chair,  with  a  gentle 
and  sweet  expression  on  her  face,  but  looking  too 
pale  and  feeble  to  endure  the  hardships  of  the 
wilderness. 

Every  morning  and  evening  the  Lady  Arbella 
gave  up  her  great  chair  to  one  of  the  ministers,  who 
took  his  place  in  it  and  read  passages  from  the  Bible 
to  his  '  companions.  And  thus,  with  prayers,  and 
pious  conversation,  and  frequent  singing  of  hymns, 
which  the  breezes  caught  from  their  lips  and  scat- 
2 


18  grandfather's  chair. 

tered  far  over  the  desolate  waves,  they  prosecuted 
their  voyage,  and  sailed  into  the  harbor  of  Salem  in 
the  month  of  June. 

At  that  period  there  were  but  six  or  eight  dwell- 
ings in  the  town  ;  and  these  were  miserable  hovels, 
with  roofs  of  straw  and  wooden  chimneys.  The 
passengers  in  the  fleet  either  built  huts  with  bark  and 
branches  of  trees,  or  erected  tents  of  cloth  till  they 
could  provide  themselves  with  better  shelter.  Many 
of  them  went  to  form  a  settlement  at  Charlestown. 
It  was  thought  fit  that  the  Lady  Arbella  should  tarry 
in  Salem  for  a  time :  she  was  probably  received  as  a 
guest  into  the  family  of  John  Endicott.  He  was  the 
chief  person  in  the  plantation,  and  had  the  only 
comfortable  house  which  the  new  comers  had  beheld 
since  they  left  England.  So  now,  children,  you 
must  imagine  Grandfather's  chair  in  the  midst  of  a 
new  scene. 

Suppose  it  a  hot  summer's  day,  and  the  lattice 
windows  of  a  chamber  in  Mr.  Endicott's  house 
thrown  wide  open.  The  Lady  Arbella,  looking 
paler  than  she  did  on  shipboard,  is  sitting  in  her 
chair  and  thinking  mournfully  of  far-off  England. 
She  rises  and  goes  to  the  window.  There,  amid 
patches  of  garden  ground  and  cornfield,  she  sees 
the  few  wretched  hovels  of  the  settlers,  with  the  still 
ruder  wigwams  and  cloth  tents  of  the  passengers 
who  had  arrived  in  the  same  fleet  with  herself.     Far 


grandfather's  chair.  19 

and  near  stretches  the  dismal  forest  of  pine  trees, 
which  throw  their  black  shadows  ovei  the  whole 
land,  and  likewise  over  the  heart  of  this  poor  lady. 

All  the  inhabitants  of  the  little  village  are  busy. 
One  is  clearing  a  spot  on  the  verge  of  the  forest  for 
his  homestead ;  another  is  hewing  the  trunk  of  a 
fallen  pine  tree,  in  order  to  build  himself  a  dwell- 
ing ;  a  third  is  hoeing  in  his  field  of  Indian  corn. 
Here  comes  a  huntsman  out  of  the  woods,  dragging 
a  bear  which  he  has  shot,  and  shouting  to  the  neigh- 
bors to  lend  him  a  hand.  There  goes  a  man  to  the 
sea  shore,  with  a  spade  and  a  bucket,  to  dig  a  mess  of 
clams,  which  were  a  principal  article  of  food  with 
the  first  settlers.  Scattered  here  and  there  are  two 
or  three  dusky  figures,  clad  in  mantles  of  fur,  with 
ornaments  of  bone  hanging  from  their  ears,  and  the 
feathers  of  wild  birds  in  their  coal-black  hair.  They 
have  belts  of  shell  work  slung  across  their  shoulders, 
and  are  armed  with  bows  and  arrows  and  flint-headed 
spears.  These  are  an  Indian  sagamore  and  his  at- 
tendants, who  have  come  to  gaze  at  the  labors  of  the 
white  men.  And  now  rises  a  ciy  that  a  pack  of 
wolves  have  seized  a  young  calf  in  the  pasture ;  and 
every  man  snatches  up  his  gun  or  pike  and  runs  in 
chase  of   the  marauding  beasts. 

Poor  Lady  Arbella  watches  all  these  sights,  and 
feels  that  this  new  world  is  fit  only  for  rough  and 
hardy  people.     None  should  be  here  but  those  who 


20  grandfather's  chair. 

can  struggle  with  wild  beasts  and  wild  men,  and  can 
toil  in  the  heat  or  cold,  and  can  keep  their  hearts 
firm  against  all  difficulties  and  dangers.  But  she  is 
not  one  of  these.  Her  gentle  and  timid  spirit  sinks 
within  her ;  and,  turning  away  from  the  window,  she 
sits  down  in  the  great  chair  and  wonders  where- 
abouts in  the  wilderness  her  friends  will  dig  her 
grave. 

Mr.  Johnson  had  gone,  with  Governor  Winthrop 
and  most  of  the  other  passengers,  to  Boston,  where 
he  intended  to  build  a  house  for  Lady  Arbella  and 
himself.  Boston  was  then  covered  with  wild  woods, 
and  had  fewer  inhabitants,  even,  than  Salem.  During 
her  husband's  absence,  poor  Lady  Arbella  felt  her- 
self growing  ill,  and  was  hardly  able  to  stir  from  the 
great  chair.  Whenever  John  Endicott  noticed  her 
despondency,  he  doubtless  addressed  her  with  words 
of  comfort.  "  Cheer  up,  my  good  lady !  "  he  would 
say.  "  In  a  little  time,  you  will  love  this  rude  life 
of  the  wilderness  as  I  do."  But  Endicott 's  heart 
was  as  bold  and  resolute  as  iron,  and  he  could  not 
understand  why  a  woman's  heart  should  not  be  of 
iron  too. 

Si  ill,  however,  he  spoke  kindly  to  the  lady,  and 
ihen  hastened  forth  to  till  his  cornfield  and  set  out 
fruit  trees,  or  to  bargain  with  the  Indians  for  furs,  or 
perchance  to  oversee  the  building  of  a  fort.  Also, 
being  a  magistrate,  he  had  often  to  punish  some  idler 


grandfather's  chair.  21 

01  evil  doer,  by  ordering  him  to  be  set  in  the  stocks 
or  scourged  at  the  whipping  post  Often,  too,  as  was 
the  custom  of  the  times,  he  and  Mr.  Higginson,  the 
minister  of  Salem,  held  long  religious  talks  together. 
Thus  John  Endicott  was  a  man  of  multifarious  busi- 
ness, and  had  no  time  to  look  back  regretfully  to  his 
native  land.  He  felt  himself  fit  for  the  new  world 
and  for  the  work  that  he  had  to  do,  and  set  himself 
resolutely  to  accomplish  it. 

What  a  contrast,  my  dear  children,  between  this 
bold,  rough,  active  man,  and  the  gentle  Lady  Ar- 
bella,  who  was  fading  away,  like  a  pale  English 
flower,  in  the  shadow  of  the  forest !  And  now  the 
great  chair  was  often  empty,  because  Lady  Arbella 
grew  too  weak  to  arise  from  bed. 

Meantime,  her  husband  had  pitched  upon  a  spot 
for  their  new  home.  He  returned  from  Boston  to 
Salem,  travelling  through  the  woods  on  foot,  and 
leaning  on  his  pilgrim's  staff.  His  heart  yearned 
within  him  ;  for  he  was  eager  to  tell  his  wife  of  the 
new  home  which  he  had  chosen.  But  when  he  be- 
held her  pale  and  hollow  cheek,  and  found  how  her 
strength  was  wasted,  he  must  have  known  that  her 
appointed  home  was  in  a  better  land.  Happv  for 
him  then  —  happy  both  for  him  and  her  —  if  they 
remembered  that  there  was  a  path  to  heaven,  as  well 
from  this  heathen  wilderness  as  from  the  Christian 
land  whence  they  had  come.     And  so,  in  one  short 


22  GRANDFATHER  S    CHA1K. 

« 

month  from  her  arrival,  the  gentle  Lady  Arbella 
faded  away  and  died.  They  dug  a  grave  for  her  in 
the  new  soil,  where  the  roots  of  the  pine  trees  im- 
peded their  spades  ;  and  when  her  bones  had  rested 
there  nearly  two  hundred  years,  and  a  city  had 
sprung  up  around  them,  a  church  of  stone  was  built 
upon  the  spot. 

Charley,  almost  at  the  commencement  of  the  fore- 
going narrative,  had  galloped  away,  with  a  prodigious 
clatter,  upon  Grandfather's  stick,  and  was  not  yet  re- 
turned. So  large  a  boy  should  have  been  ashamed 
to  ride  upon  a  stick.  But  Laurence  and  Clara  had 
listened  attentively,  and  were  affected  by  this  true 
Ptory  of  the  gentle  lady  who  had  come  so  far  to  die 
so  soon.  Grandfather  had  supposed  that  little  Alice 
was  asleep  ;  but  towards  the  close  of  the  story,  hap- 
pening to  look  down  upon  her,  he  saw  that  her  blue 
eyes  were  wide  open,  and  fixed  earnestly  upon  his 
face.  The  tears  had  gathered  in  them,  like  dew  up- 
on a  delicate  flower  ;  but  when  Grandfather  ceased 
to  speak,  the  sunshine  of  her  smile  broke  forth  again. 

"O,  the  lady  must  have  been  so  glad  to  get  to 
heaven  !  "  exclaimed  little  Alice. 

"  Grandfather,  what  became  of  Mr.  Johnson  ?  ' 
asked  Clara. 

"  His  heart  appears  to  have  been  quite  broken," 
answered  Grandfather  :   "for  he  died  at  Boston  with- 


grandfather's  chair.  23 

in  a  month  after  the  death  of  his  wife.  He  was 
buried  in  the  very  same  tract  of  ground  where  he 
had  intended  to  build  a  dwelling  for  Lady  Arbella 
and  himself.  Where  their  house  would  have  stood, 
there  was  his  grave."  ^ 

"  I  never  heard  any  thing  so  melancholy  "  said 
Claiu. 

"  The  people  loved  and  respected  Mr.  Johnson  so 
much,"  continued  Grandfather,  "  that  it  was  the  last 
request  of  many  of  them,  when  they  died,  that  they 
might  be  buried  as  near  as  possible  to  this  good  man's 
grave.  Aud  so  the  field  became  the  first  burial 
ground  in  Boston.  When  you  pass  through  Tremont 
Street,  along  by  King's  Chapel,  you  see  a  burial 
ground,  containing  many  old  grave  stones  and  monu- 
ments.    That  was  Mr.  Johnson's  field." 

"  How  sad  is  the  thought,"  observed  Clara,  "  that 
one  of  the  first  things  which  the  settlers  had  to  do, 
when  they  came  to  the  new  world,  was  to  set  apart  a 
burial  ground  !  " 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Laurence,  "  if  they  had  found  no 
need  of  burial  grounds  here,  they  would  have  been 
glad,  after  a  few  years,  to  go  back  to  England." 

Grandfather  looked  at  Laurence,  to  discover 
whether  he  knew  how  profound  and  true  a  thing 
be  had  said. 


CHAPTER    III. 

Nor  long  after  Grandfather  had  told  the  story  of 
his  great  chair,  there  chanced  to  be  a  rainy  day. 
Our  friend  Charley,  after  disturbing  the  household 
with  beat  of  drum  and  riotous  shouts,  races  up  and 
down  the  staircase,  overturning  of  chairs,  and  much 
other  uproar,  began  to  feel  the  quiet  and  confinement 
within  doors  intolerable.  But  as  the  rain  came  down 
in  a  flood,  the  little  fellow  was  hopelessly  a  prisoner, 
and  now  stood  with  sullen  aspect  at  a  window, 
wondering  whether  the  sun  itself  were  not  extin- 
guished by  so  much  moisture  in  the  sky. 

Charley  had  already  exhausted  the  less  eager  ao 
tivity  of  the  other  children ;  and  they  had  betaken 
themselves  to  occupations  that  did  not  admit  of  his 
companionship.  Laurence  sat  in  a  recess  near  the 
bookcase,  reading,  not  for  the  first  time,  the  Mid- 
summer Night's  Dream.  Clara  was  making  a  rosary 
of  beads  for  a  little  figure  of  a  Sister  of  Charity, 
who  was  to  attend  the  Bunker  Hill  fair  and  lend 
her  aid  in  erecting  the  monument.     Little  Alice  sat 

(24) 


grandfather's  chair.  25 

pii  Grandfather  s  footstool,  with  a  picture  book  in  her 
hand  ;  and,  for  every  picture,  the  child  was  telling 
Grandfather  a  story.  She  did  not  read  from  the 
book,  (for  little  Alice  had  not  much  skill  in  read- 
ing.) but  told  the  story  out  of  her  own  heart  and 
mind. 

Charley  was  too  big  a  boy,  of  course,  to  care  any 
thing  about  little  Alice's  stories,  although  Grand- 
father appeared  to  listen  with  a  good  deal  of  interest. 
Often,  in  a  young  child's  ideas  and  fancies,  there  is 
something  which  it  requires  the  thought  of  a  lifetime 
to  comprehend.  But  Charley  was  of  opinion  that, 
if  a  story  must  be  told,  it  had  better  be  told  by 
Grandfather  than  little  Alice. 

"  Grandfather,  I  want  to  hear  more  about  your 
-hair,"  said  he. 

Now,  Grandfather  remembered  that  Charley  had 
galloped  away  upon  a  stick  in  the  midst  of  the  nar- 
rative of  poor  Lady  Arbella,  and  I  know  not  whether 
he  would  have  thought  it  worth  while  to  tell  another 
story  merely  to  gratify  such  an  inattentive  auditor  as 
Charley.  But  Laurence  laid  down  his  book  and 
seconded  the  request.  Clara  drew  her  chair  nearer  to 
Grandfather  ;  and  little  Alice  immediately  closed  her 
picture  book  and  looked  up  into  his  face.  Grand- 
father had  not  the  heart  to  disappoint  them. 

He  mentioned  several  persons  who  had  a  share  in 
the  settlement  of  our   country,  and  who  would   be 


26  grandfather's  chair 

well  worthy  of  remembrance,  if  we  could  find  room 
to  tell  about  them  all.  Among  the  rest,  Grand- 
father spoke  of  the  famous  Hugh  Peters,  a  minister 
of  the  gospel,  who  did  much  good  to  the  inhabitants 
of  Salem.  Mr.  Peters  afterwards  went  back  to  Eng- 
land, and  was  chaplain  to  Oliver  Cromwell ;  but 
Grandfather  did  not  tell  the  children  what  became 
of  this  upright  and  zealous  man  at  last.  In  fact,  his 
auditors  were  growing  impatient  to  hear  more  about 
the  history  of  the  chair. 

"  After  the  death  of  Mr.  Johnson,"  said  he, 
•r  Grandfather's  chair  came  into  the  possession  of 
JRoger  Williams.  He  was  a  clergyman,  who  arrived 
at  Salem,  and  settled  there  in  1631.  Doubtless  the 
good  man  has  spent  many  a  studious  hour  in  this  old 
chair,  either  penning  a  sermon  or  reading  some  ab- 
struse book  of  theology,  till  midnight  came  upon  him 
unawares.  At  that  period,  as  there  wrere  few  lamps 
or  candles  to  be  had,  people  used  to  read  or  work  by 
the  light  of  pitch-pine  torches.  These  supplied  the 
place  of  the  *  midnight  oil '  to  the  learned  men  of 
New  England." 

Grandfather  went  on  to  talk  about  Roger  Williams, 
and  told  the  children  several  particulars,  which  we 
have  not  room  to  repeat.  One  incident,  however, 
which  was  connected  with  his  life,  must  be  related, 
because  it  will  give  the  reader  an  idea  of  the  opinions 
and  feelings  of  the  first  settlers  of  New  England 
It  was  as  follows :  — 


GRANDFATHER  3  CHAIR.  2  i 


THE  RED  CROSS. 


While  Eoger  Williams  sat  in  Grandfather's  chaii 
at  his  humble  residence  in  Salem,  John  Endicott 
would  often  come  to  visit  him.  As  the  clergy  had 
great  influence  in  temporal  concerns,  the  minister 
and  magistrate  would  talk  over  the  occurrences  of 
the  day,  and  consult  how  the  people  might  be  gov- 
erned according  to  scriptural  laws. 

One  thing  especially  troubled  them  both.  In  the 
old  national  banner  of  England,  under  which  her 
soldiers  have  fought  for  hundreds  of  years,  there  is 
a  red  cross,  which  has  been  there  ever  since  the  days 
when  England  was  in  subjection  to  the  pope.  The 
cross,  though  a  holy  symbol,  was  abhorred  by  the 
Puritans,  because  they  considered  it  a  relic  of  Popish 
idolatry.  Now,  whenever  the  trainband  of  Salem 
was  mustered,  the  soldiers,  with  Endicott  at  their 
head,  had  no  other  flag  to  march  under  than  this 
same  old  Papistical  banner  of  England,  with  the  red 
cross  in  the  midst  of  it.  The  banner  of  the  red 
cross,  likewise,  was  flying  on  the  walls  of  the  fort  of 
Salem  ;  and  a  similar  one  was  displayed  in  Boston 
Harbor,  from  the  fortress  on  Castle  Island. 

"  I  profess,  brother  Williams,"  Captain  Endicott 
would  say,  after  they  had  been  talking  of  this  mat 
ter,  "it  distresses  a  Christian  man's  heart  to  see  this 


£8  grandfather's  chair. 

idolatrous  cross  flying  over  our  heads.  A  stranger, 
beholding  it,  would  think  that  we  had  undergone  all 
our  hardships  and  dangers,  by  sea  and  in  the  wilder- 
ness, only  to  get  new  dominions  for  the  Pope  of 
Rome." 

"  Truly,  good  Mr.  Endicott,"  Roger  Williama 
would  answer,  "  you  speak  as  an  honest  man  and 
Protestant  Christian  should.  For  mine  own  part, 
were  it  my  business  to  draw  a  sword,  I  should  reckon 
it  sinful  to  fight  under  such  a  banner.  Neither  can 
I,  in  my  pulpit,  ask  the  blessing  of  Heaven  upon  it." 

Such,  probably,  was  the  way  in  which  Roger  Wil  • 
liams  and  John  Endicott  used  to  talk  about  the  ban- 
her  of  the  red  cross.  Endicott,  who  was  a  prompt 
and  resolute  man,  soon  determined  that  Massachu- 
setts, if  she  could  not  have  a  banner  of  her  own, 
should  at  least  be  delivered  from  that  of  the  Pope 
of   Home. 

Not  long  afterwards  there  was  a  military  muster  at 
Salem.  Every  ablebodied  man  in  the  town  and 
neighborhood  was  there.  All  were  well  armed,  with 
steel  caps  upon  their  heads,  plates  of  iron  upon  theii 
breasts  and  at  their  backs,  and  gorgets  of  steel  around 
their  necks.  When  the  sun  shone  upon  these  ranks 
of  iron-clad  men,  they  flashed  and  blazed  with  a 
splendor  that  bedazzled  the  wild  Indians  who  had 
come  out  of  the  woods  to  gaze  at  them.  The  sol 
diers  had   long  pikes,   swords,  and  muskets,  which 


GRANDFATHER  8    CHAIR.  29 

were  fired  with  matches,  and  were  almost  as  heavj 
as  a  small  cannon. 

These  men  had  mostly  a  stern  and  rigid  aspect. 
To  judge  by  their  looks,  you  might  have  supposed 
that  there  was  as  much  iron  in  their  hearts  as  there 
was  upon  their  heads  and  breasts.  They  were  all 
devoted  Puritans,  and  of  the  same  temper  as  those 
with  whom  Oliver  Cromwell  afterwards  overthrew 
the  throne  of  England.  They  hated  all  the  relics 
of  Popish  superstition  as  much  as  Endicott  himself ; 
and  yet  over  their  heads  was  displayed  the  banner 
of  the  red  cross. 

Endicott  was  the  captain  of  the  company.  While 
the  soldiers  were  expecting  his  orders  to  begin  their 
exercise,  they  saw  him  take  the  banner  in  one  hand, 
holding  his  drawn  sword  in  the  other.  Probably  he 
addressed  them  in  a  speech,  and  explained  how  hor- 
rible a  thing  it  was,  that  men,  who  had  fled  from 
Popish  idolatry  into  the  wilderness,  should  be  com- 
pelled to  fight  under  its  symbols  here.  Perhaps  he 
concluded  his  address  somewhat  in  the  following 
style :  — 

"  And  now,  fellow-soldiers,  you  see  this  old  ban- 
ner of  England.  Some  of  you,  I  doubt  not,  may 
think  it  treason  for  a  man  to  lay  violent  hands  upon 
it.  But  whether  or  no  it  be  treason  to  man,  I  have 
good  assurance  in  my  conscience  that  it  is  no  treason 
*o  God.     Wherefore,  I   have  resolved   that  we  will 


30  GRANDFATHER'S    CHAIR. 

rather  be  God's  soldiers  than  soldiers  of  the  Pope 
of  Rome  ;  and  in  that  mind  I  now  cut  the  Papa] 
cross  out  of  this  banner." 

And  so  he  did.  And  thus,  in  a  province  belong- 
ing to  the  crown  of  England,  a  captain  was  found 
bold  enough  to  deface  the  king's  banner  with  his 
sword. 

When  Winthrop  and  the  other  wise  men  of  Mas- 
sachusetts heard  of  it  they  were  disquieted,  being 
afraid  that  Endicott's  act  would  bring  great  trouble 
upon  himself  and  them.  An  account  of  the  matter 
was  carried  to  King  Charles ;  but  he  was  then  so 
mHch  engrossed  by  dissensions  with  his  people  that 
he  had  no  leisure  to  punish  the  offender.  In  other 
times,  it  might  have  cost  Endicott  his  life,  and  Mas- 
sachusetts her  charter. 

"  I  should  like  to  know,  Grandfather,"  said  Lau- 
rence, when  the  story  was  ended,  "  whether,  when 
Endicott  cut  the  red  cross  out  of  the  banner,  he 
meant  to  imply  that  Massachusetts  was  independent 
of  England?" 

"  A  sense  of  the  independence  of  his  adopted 
country  must  have  been  in  that  bold  man's  heart," 
answered  Grandfather ;  "  but  I  doubt  whether  h« 
had  given  the  matter  much  consideration  except  in 
its  religious  bearing.      However,  it   was  a  very  re- 


grandfather's  oh  air.  31 

markable    affair,  and  a  very  strong    expression    of 
Puritan  character." 

Grandfather  proceeded  to  speak  further  of  Rogei 
Williams  and  of  other  persons  who  sat  in  the  greal 
chair,  as  will  be  seen  in  the  following  chapter. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

"  Roger  Williams,"  said  Grandfather,  "  did  not 
keep  possession  of  the  chair  a  great  while.  His  opin- 
ions of  civil  and  religious  matters  differed,  in  many 
respects,  from  those  of  the  rulers  and  clergymen  of 
Massachusetts.  Now,  the  wise  men  of  those  days 
believed  that  the  country  could  not  be  safe  unless 
all  the  inhabitants  thought  and  felt  alike." 

"  Does  any  body  believe  so  in  our  days,  Grand- 
father ?  "  asked  Laurence. 

"  Possibly  there  are  some  who  believe  it,"  said 
Grandfather  ;  "  but  they  have  not  so  much  power  to 
act  upon  their  belief  as  the  magistrates  and  minis- 
ters had  in  the  days  of  Roger  Williams.  They  had 
the  power  to  deprive  this  good  man  of  his  home,  and 
to  send  him  out  from  the  midst  of  them  in  search 
of  a  new  place  of  rest.  He  was  banished  in  1634, 
and  went  first  to  Plymouth  colony  ;  but  as  the  peo- 
ple there  held  the  same  opinions  as  those  of  Massa- 
chusetts, he  was  not  suffered  to  remain  among  them. 
However,    the    wilderness    was  wide    enough  ;    sc 


grandfather's  chair.  38 

Roger  Williams  took  his  staff  and  travelled  into  the 
forest,  and  made  treaties  with  the  Indians,  and  began 
a  plantation  which  he  called  Providence." 

"  I  have  been  to  Providence  on  the  railroad/' 
said  Charley.     "  It  is  but  a  two  hours'  ride." 

"  Yes,  Charley,"  replied  Grandfather  ;  "  but  when 
Roger  Williams  travelled  thither,  over  hills  and  val- 
leys, and  through  the  tangled  woods,  and  across 
swamps  and  streams,  it  was  a  journey  of  several  days. 
Well,  his  little  plantation  is  now  grown  to  be  a  pop- 
ulous city  ;  and  the  inhabitants  have  a  great  venera- 
tion for  Roger  Williams.  His  name  is  familiar  in 
the  mouths  of  all,  because  they  see  it  on  their  bank 
bills.  How  it  would  have  perplexed  this  good  cler- 
gyman if  he  had  been  told  that  he  should  give  his 
name  to  the  Roger  Williams  Bank  !  " 

"  When  he  was  driven  from  Massachusetts,"  said 
Laurence,  "  and  began  his  journey  into  the  woods, 
he  must  have  felt  as  if  he  were  burying  himself  for- 
ever from  the  sight  and  knowledge  of  men.  Yet 
the  whole  country  has  now  heard  of  him,  and  will 
remember  him  forever." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Grandfather  ;  "  it  often  happens 
that  the  outcasts  of  one  generation  are  those  who  are 
reverenced  as  the  wisest  and  best  of  men  by  the  next. 
The  securest  fame  is  that  which  comes  after  a  man's 
death.  But  let  us  return  to  our  story.  When 
Roger  Williams  was  banished,  he  appears  to  have 
3 


84  GRANDFATHER'S    CHAIR.      v 

given  the  chair  to  Mrs.  Anne  Hutchinson.  At  all 
events,  it  was  in  her  possession  in  1637.  She  was  a 
very  sharp witted  and  well-instructed  lady,  and  was 
so  conscious  of  her  own  wisdom  and  abilities  that 
6he  thought  it  a  pity  that  the  world  should  not  haye 
the  benefit  of  them.  She  therefore  used  to  hold  lec- 
tures in  Boston  once  or  twice  a  week,  at  which  most 
of  the  women  attended.  Mrs.  Hutchinson  presided 
at  these  meetings,  sitting  with  great  state  and  dignity 
in  Grandfather's  chair." 

"  Grandfather,  was  it  positively  this  very  chair  ?  " 
demanded  Clara,  laying  her  hand  upon  its  carved 
elbow. 

"  Why  not,  my  dear  Clara  ?  "  said  Grandfather. 
"Well,  Mrs.  Hutchinson's  lectures  soon  caused  a 
great  disturbance ;  for  the  ministers  of  Boston  did 
not  think  it  safe  and  proper  that  a  woman  should 
publicly  instruct  the  people  in  religious  doctrines. 
Moreover,  she  made  the  matter  worse  by  declaring 
that  the  Bev.  Mr.  Cotton  was  the  only  sincerely 
pious  and  holy  clergyman  in  New  England.  Now, 
tha  clergy  of  those  days  had  quite  as  much  share  in 
the  government  of  the  country,  though  indirectly,  as 
the  magistrates  themselves ;  so  you  may  imagine 
what  a  host  of  powerful  enemies  were  raised  up 
against  Mrs.  Hutchinson.  A  synod  was  convened  ; 
that  is  to  say,  an  assemblage  of  all  the  ministers  iu 
Massachusetts.    They  declared  that  there  were  eighty- 


GRANDFATHERS    CHAIR.  S5 

two  erroneous  opinions  on  religious  subjects  diffused 
among  the  people,  and  that  Mrs.  Hutchinson's  opin- 
ions were  of  the  number." 

"  If  they  had  eighty-two  wrong  opinions,"  ob- 
served Charley,  "  I  don't  see  how  they  could  have 
any  right  ones." 

"  Mrs.  Hutchinson  had  many  zealous  friends  and 
converts,"  continued  Grandfather.  "  She  was  favored 
by  young  Henry  Vane,  who  had  come  over  from 
England  a  year  or  two  before,  and  had  since  been 
chosen  governor  of  the  colony,  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
four.  But  Winthrop  and  most  of  the  other  leading 
men,  as  well  as  the  ministers,  felt  an  abhorrence  of 
her  doctrines.  Thus  two  opposite  parties  were 
formed ;  and  so  fierce  were  the  dissensions  that  it 
was  feared  the  consequence  would  be  civil  war  and 
bloodshed.  But  Winthrop  and  the  ministers  being 
the  most  powerful,  they  disarmed  and  imprisoned 
Mrs.  Hutchinson's  adherents.  She,  like  Roger  Wil- 
liams, was  banished." 

"  Dear  Grandfather,  did  they  drive  the  poor  wo- 
man into  the  woods  ?  "  exclaimed  little  Alice,  who 
contrived  to  feel  a  human  interest  even  in  these  dis- 
cords of  polemic  divinity. 

"  They  did,  my  darling,"  replied  Grandfather ; 
"  and  the  end  of  her  life  was  so  sad  you  must  not 
hear  it.  At  her  departure,  it  appears,  from  the  best 
authorities,  that  she  gave  the  great  chair  to  her  friend 
Henry  Vane.     He  was  a  young  man  of   wonderful 


36  grandfather's  chair. 

talents  and  great  learning,  who  had  imbibed  the  re- 
ligious opinions  of  the  Puritans,  and  left  England 
with  the  intention  of  spending  his  life  in  Massachu- 
setts. The  people  chose  him  governor ;  but  the  con- 
troversy about  Mrs.  Hutchinson,  and  other  troubles, 
caused  him  to  leave  the  country  in  1637.  You  may 
read  the  subsequent  events  of  his  life  in  the  History 
of  England." 

"  Yes,  Grandfather,"  cried  Laurence ;  "  and  we 
may  read  them  better  in  Mr.  Upham's  Biography  of 
Vane.  And  what  a  beautiful  death  he  died,  long 
afterwards  !  beautiful,  though  it  was  on  a  scaffold." 

"  Many  of  the  most  beautiful  deaths  have  been 
there,"  said  Grandfather.  "  The  enemies  of  a  great 
and  good  man  can  in  no  other  way  make  him  so 
glorious  as  by  giving  him  the  crown  of  martyrdom." 

In  order  that  the  children  might  fully  understand 
the  all-important  history  of  the  chair,  Grandfather 
now  thought  fit  to  speak  01  the  progress  that  was 
made  in  settling  several  colonies.  The  settlement  of 
Plymouth,  in  1620,  has  already  been  mentioned.  In 
1635  Mr.  Hooker  and  Mr.  Stone,  two  ministers, 
went  on  foot  from  Massachusetts  to  Connecticut, 
through  the  pathless  woods,  taking  their  whole  con- 
gregation along  with  them.  They  founded  the  town 
of  Hartford.  In  1638  Mr.  Davenport,  a  very  cele- 
brated minister,  went,  with  other  people,  and  began 
a  plantation  at  New  Haven.  In  the  same  year,  some 
persons  who   had  been  persecuted  in  Massachusetts 


9RANDFATHER's    CHAIR.  31 

went  to  the  Isle  of  Rhodes,  since  called  Rhode  Isl- 
and, and  settled  there.  About  this  time,  also,  many 
settlers  had  gone  to  Maine,  and  were  living  without 
any  regular  government.  There  were  likewise  set- 
tlers near  Piscataqua  River,  in  the  region  which  is 
now  called  New  Hampshire. 

Thus,  at  various  points  along  the  coast  of  New 
England,  there  were  communities  of  Englishmen. 
Though  these  communities  were  independent  of  one 
another,  yet  they  had  a  common  dependence  upon 
England ;  and,  at  so  vast  a  distance  from  their  native 
home,  the  inhabitants  must  all  have  felt  like  brethren. 
They  were  fitted  to  become  one  united  people  at  a 
future  period.  Perhaps  their  feelings  of  brother- 
hood were  the  stronger  because  different  nations  had 
formed  settlements  to  the  north  and  to  the  south. 
In  Canada  and  Nova  Scotia  were  colonies  of  French. 
On  the  banks  of  the  Hudson  River  was  a  colony  of 
Dutch,  who  had  taken  possession  of  that  region  many 
years  before,  and  called  it  New  Netherlands. 

Grandfather,  for  aught  I  know,  might  have  gone 
on  to  speak  of  Maryland  and  Virginia  ;  for  the  good 
old  gentleman  really  seemed  to  suppose  that  the 
whole  surface  of  the  United  States  was  not  too  broad 
a  foundation  to  place  the  four  legs  of  his  chair  upon. 
But,  happening  to  glance  at  Charley,  he  perceived 
that  this  naughty  boy  was  growing  impatient  and  med- 
itating another  ride  upon  a  stick.  So  here,  for  the 
present,  Grandfather  suspended  the  history  of  his  ch?.ir 


CHAPTER    V. 

The  chillren  had  now  learned  to  look  upon  the 
chair  with  an  interest  which  was  almost  the  same  aa 
if  it  were  a  conscious  being,  and  could  remember  the 
many  famous  people  whom  it  had  held  within  its  arms. 

Even  Charley,  lawless  as  he  was,  seemed  to  feel 
that  this  venerable  chair  must  not  be  clambered  upon 
nor  overturned,  although  he  had  no  scruple  in  tak- 
ing such  liberties  with  every  other  chair  in  th.3  house. 
Clara  treated  it  with  still  greater  reverence,  often 
taking  occasion  to  smooth  its  cushion,  and  to  brush 
the  dust  from  the  carved  flowers  and  grotesque  fig- 
ures of  its  oaken  back  and  arms.  Laurence  would 
sometimes  sit  a  whole  hour,  especially  at  twilight, 
gazing  at  the  chair,  and,  by  the  spell  of  his  imagina- 
tions, summoning  up  its  ancient  occupants  to  appear 
in  it  again. 

Little  Alice  evidently  employed  herself  in  a  simi- 
lar way ;  for  once,  when  Grandfather  had  gone 
abroad,  the  child  was  heard  talking  with  the  gentle 
Lady  Arbella,  as  if  she  were  still  sitting  in  the  chair 

(38) 


GRANDFATHER  8     CHAIR.  39 

So  sweet  a  child  as  little  Alice  may  fitly  talk  with 
angels,  such  as  the  Lady  Arbella  had  long  since 
become. 

Grandfathei  was  soon  importuned  for  moie  stories 
about  the  chair.  He  had  no  difficulty  in  relating 
them ;  for  it  really  seemed  as  if  every  person  noted 
in  our  early  history  had,  on  some  occasion  or  other, 
found  repose  within  its  comfortable  arms.  If  Grand- 
father took  pride  in  any  thing,  it  was  in  being  the 
possessor  of  such  an  honorable  and  historic  elbow 
chair. 

"  1  know  not  precisely  who  next  got  possession  of 
the  chair  after  Governor  Vane  went  back  to  Eng- 
land," said  Grandfather.  "  But  there  is  reason  to 
believe  that  President  Dunster  sat  in  it,  when  he  held 
the  first  commencement  at  Harvard  College.  You 
have  often  heard,  children,  how  careful  our  forefathers 
were  to  give  their  young  people  a  good  education. 
They  had  scarcely  cut  down  trees  enough  to  make 
room  for  their  own  dwellings  before  they  began  to 
think  of  establishing  a  college.  Their  principal  ob- 
ject was,  to  rear  up  pious  and  learned  ministers  ;  and 
hence  old  writers  call  Harvard  College  a  school  of  the 
prophets." 

"  Is  the  college  a  school  of  the  prophets  now  ?  " 
asked  Charley. 

"  It  is  a  long  while  since  I  took  my  degree, 
Charley.     You  must  ask  some  of  the  recent  gradu- 


40  grandfather's  chair. 

ates,"  answered  Grandfather.  "  As  I  was  telling  you, 
President  Dunster  sat  in  Grandfather's  chair  in  1642, 
when  he  conferred  the  degree  of  bachelor  of  arts  on 
nine  young  men.  They  were  the  first  in  America 
who  had  received  that  honor.  And  now,  my  dear 
auditors,  I  must  confess  that  there  are  contradictory 
statements  and  some  uncertainty  about  the  adventures 
of  the  chair  for  a  period  of  almost  ten  years.  Some 
say  that  it  was  occupied  by  your  own  ancestor,  Wil- 
liam Hawthorne,  first  speaker  of  the  house  of  rep- 
resentatives. I  have  nearly  satisfied  myself,  howevei . 
that,  during  most  of  this  questionable  period,  it  was 
literally  the  chair  of  state.  It  gives  me  much  pleas- 
ure to  imagine  that  several  successive  governors  of 
Massachusetts  sat  in  it  at  the  council  board." 

"  But,  Grandfather,"  interposed  Charley,  who  was 
a  matter-of-fact  little  person,  "  what  reason  have  you 
to  imagine  so  ?  " 

"  Pray  do  imagine  it,  Grandfather,"  said  Laurence. 

"  With  Charley's  permission,  1  will,"  replied 
Grandfather,  smiling.  "  Let  us  consider  it  settled, 
therefore,  that  Winthrop,  Bellingham,  Dudley,  and 
Endicott,  each  of  them,  when  chosen  governor,  took 
his  seat  in  our  great  chair  on  election  day.  In  this 
chair,  likewise,  did  those  excellent  governors  preside 
while  holding  consultations  with  the  chief  council- 
lors of  the  province,  who  were  styled  assistants. 
The  governor  sat  in  this  chair,  too,  whenever  mes- 


grandfather's  oh  air.  41 

sages  were  brought  to  him  from  the  chamber  of 
representatives. " 

And  here  Grandfather  took  occasion  to  talk  rather 
tediously  about  the  nature  and  forms  of  government 
that  established  themselves,  almost  spontaneously,  in 
Massachusetts  and  the  other  New  England  colonies. 
Democracies  were  the  natural  growth  of  the  new 
world.  As  to  Massachusetts,  it  was  at  first  intended 
that  the  colony  should  be  governed  by  a  council  in 
London.  But  in  a  little  while  the  people  had  the 
whole  power  in  their  own  hands,  and  chose  annually 
the  governor,  the  councillors,  and  the  representatives. 
The  people  of  Old  England  had  never  enjoyed  any 
thing  like  the  liberties  and  privileges  which  the  set- 
tlers of  New  England  now  possessed.  And  they  did 
not  adopt  these  modes  of  government  after  long 
study,  but  in  simplicity,  as  if  there  were  no  other 
way  for  people  to  be  ruled. 

"  But,  Laurence,"  continued  Grandfather,  "when 
you  want  instruction  on  these  points,  you  must  seek 
it  in  Mr.  Bancroft's  History.  I  am  merely  telling 
the  history  of  a  chair.  To  proceed.  The  period 
during  which  the  governors  sat  in  our  chair  was  not 
very  full  of  striking  incidents.  The  province  was 
now  established  on  a  secure  foundation  ;  but  it  did  not 
increase  so  rapidly  as  at  first,  because  the  Puritans 
were  no  longer  driven  from  England  by  persecution. 
However,  there  was  still  a  quiet  and  natural  growth. 


42  GRA>  DFATHER  S    CHAIR. 

The  legislature  incorporated  towns,  and  made  new 
purchases  of  lands  from  the  Indians.  A  very  memo- 
rable event  took  place  in  1643.  The  colonies  of  Mas- 
sachusetts, Plymouth,  Connecticut,  and  New  Haven 
formed  a  union,  for  the  purpose  of  assisting  each 
other  in  difficulties,  for  mutual  defence  against  their 
enemies.  They  called  themselves  the  United  Col- 
onies of  New  England." 

"  Were  they  under  a  government  like  that  of  the 
United  States  ?  "  inquired  Laurence. 

"  No,"  replied  Grandfather  ;  "  the  different  colonies 
did  not  compose  one  nation  together  ;  it  was  merely 
a  confederacy  among  the  governments.  It  somewhat 
resembled  the  league  of  the  Amphictyons,  which  you 
remember  in  Grecian  history.  But  to  return  to  our 
chair.  In  1644  it  was  highly  honored  ;  for  Governor 
Endicott  sat  in  it  wThen  he  gave  audience  to  an  am- 
bassador from  the  French  governor  of  Acadia,  or 
Nova  Scotia.  A  treaty  of  peace  between  Massa- 
chusetts and  the  French  colony  was  then  signed." 

"  Did  England  allow  Massachusetts  to  make  war 
and  peace  with  foreign  countries  ?  "  asked  Laurence. 

"  Massachusetts  and  the  whole  of  New  England 
was  then  almost  independent  of  the  mother  country," 
said  Grandfather.  "  There  was  now  a  civil  war  in 
England ;  and  the  king,  as  you  may  well  suppose, 
Aad  his  hands  full  at  home,  and  could  pay  but  little 
attention  to  these  remote  colonies.     When  the  Favlia- 


grandfather's  CI1AIR.  43 

ment  got  the  power  into  their  hands,  they  likewise 
had  enough  to  do  in  keeping  down  the  Cavaliers 
Thus  New  England,  like  a  young  and  hardy  lad 
whose  father  and  mother  neglect  it,  was  left  to  take 
care  of  itself.  In  1646  King  Charles  was  beheaded. 
Oliver  Cromwell  then  became  Protector  of  England ; 
and  as  he  was  a  Puritan  himself,  and  had  risen  by 
the  valor  of  the  English  Puritans,  he  showed  him- 
self a  loving  and  indulgent  father  to  the  Puritan  col- 
onies in  America." 

Grandfather  might  have  continued  to  talk  in  this 
dull  manner  nobody  knows  how  long ;  but  suspect- 
ing that  Charley  would  find  the  subject  rather  dry, 
he  looked  sidewise  at  that  vivacious  little  fellow, 
and  saw  him  give  an  involuntary  yawn.  Where- 
upon Grandfather  proceeded  with  the  history  of  the 
chair,  and  related  a  very  entertaining  incident,  which 
will  be  found  in  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

"  According  to  the  most  authentic  records,  my 
dear  children,"  said  Grandfather,  "  the  chair,  about 
this  time,  had  the  misfortune  to  break  its  leg.  It 
was  probably  on  account  of  this  accident  that  it 
ceased  to  be  the  seat  of  the  governors  of  Massachu- 
setts ;  for,  assuredly,  it  would  have  been  ominous  of 
evil  to  the  commonwealth  if  the  chair  of  state  had 
tottered  upon  three  legs.  Being  therefore  sold  at 
auction,  —  alas  !  what  a  vicissitude  for  a  chair  that  had 
figured  in  such  high  company  !  —  our  venerable  friend 
was  knocked  down  to  a  certain  Captain  John  Hull. 
This  old  gentleman,  on  carefully  examining  the 
maimed  chair,  discovered  that  its  broken  leg  might  be 
clamped  with  iron  and  made  as  serviceable  as  ever." 

"  Here  is  the  very  leg  that  was  broken  !  "  exclaimed 
Charley,  throwing  himself  down  on  the  floor  to  look 
at  it.  "  And  here  are  the  iron  clamps.  How  well  it 
was  mended !  " 

"When    they   had    all     sufficiently  examined     the 

(44) 


grandfather's  chaik.  45 

broken  leg,  Grandfather  told  them  a  story  about  Cap- 
tain John  Hull  and 

THE  PINE-TREE   SHILLINGS. 

The  Captain  John  Hull  aforesaid  was  the  mint- 
master  of  Massachusetts,  and  coined  all  the  money 
that  was  made  there.  This  was  a  new  line  of 
business  ;  for,  in  the  earlier  days  of  the  colony,  the 
current  coinage  consisted  of  gold  and  silver  money 
of  England,  Portugal,  and  Spain.  These  coins  being 
scarce,  the  people  were  often  forced  to  barter  their 
commodities  instead  of  selling  them. 

For  instance,  if  a  man  wanted  to  buy  a  coat,  he 
perhaps  exchanged  a  bear  skin  for  it.  If  he  wished 
for  a  barrel  of  molasses,  he  might  purchase  it  with  a 
pile  of  pine  boards.  Musket  bullets  were  used  in- 
stead of  farthings.  The  Indians  had  a  sort  of  money, 
called  wampum,  which  was  made  of  clam  shells  ;  and 
this  strange  sort  of  specie  was  likewise  taken  in  pay- 
ment of  debts  by  the  English  settlers.  Bank  bills 
had  never  been  heard  of.  There  was  not  money 
enough  of  any  kind,  in  many  parts  of  the  country, 
io  pay  the  salaries  of  the  ministers ;  so  that  they 
sometimes  had  to  take  quintals  of  fish,  bushels  of 
corn,  or  cords  of  wood,  instead  of  silver  or  gold. 

As  the  people  grew  more  numerous,  and  their  trade 
one  with  another  increased,  the  want  of  current  moneT 


46  grandfather's  chair. 

was  still  more  sensibly  felt.  To  supply  the  demand, 
the  general  court  passed  a  law  for  establishing  a  coin- 
age of  shillings,  sixpences,  and  threepences.  Captain 
John  Hull  was  appointed  to  manufacture  this  money, 
and  was  to  have  about  one  shilling  out  of  every  twenty 
to  pay  him  for  the  trouble  of  making  them. 

Hereupon  all  the  old  silver  in  the  colony  was 
handed  over  to  Captain  John  Hull.  The  battered 
silver  cans  and  tankards,  I  suppose,  and  silver  buc- 
kles, and  broken  spoons,  and  silver  buttons  of  worn- 
out  coats,  and  silver  hilts  of  swords  that  had  figured 
at  court,  —  all  such  curious  old  articles  were  doubt- 
less thrown  into  the  melting  pot  together.  But  by 
far  the  greater  part  of  the  silver  consisted  of  bullion 
from  the  mines  of  South  America,  which  the  English 
buccaneers  —  who  were  little  better  than  pirates  — 
had  taken  from  the  Spaniards,  and  brought  to  Mas- 
sachusetts. 

All  this  old  and  new  silver  being  melted  down 
and  coined,  the  result  was  an  immense  amount  of 
splendid  shillings,  sixpences,  and  threepences.  Each 
had  the  date,  1652,  on  the  one  side,  and  the  fig- 
ure of  a  pine  tree  on  the  other.  Hence  they  were 
called  pine-tree  shillings.  And  for  every  twenty 
shillings  that  he  coined,  you  will  remember,  Captain 
John  Hull  was  entitled  to  put  one  shilling  into  his 
own  pocket. 

The  magistrates   soon  began  to   suspect  that   the 


grandfather's  chair.  47 

rniutmaster  would  have  the  best  of  the  bargain. 
They  offered  him  a  large  sum  of  money  if  he  would 
but  give  up  that  twentieth  shilling  which  he  was 
continually  dropping  into  his  own  pocket.  But  Cap- 
tain Hull  declared  himself  perfectly  satisfied  with 
the  shilling.  And  well  he  might  be ;  for  so  dili- 
gently did  he  labor,  that,  in  a  few  years,  his  pockets, 
his  money  bags,  and  his  strong  box  were  overflowing 
with  pine-tree  shillings.  This  was  probably  the  case 
when  he  came  into  possession  of  Grandfather's  chair  ; 
and,  as  he  had  worked  so  hard  at  the  mint,  it  was 
certainly  proper  that  he  should  have  a  comfortable 
chair  to  rest  himself  in. 

When  the  mintmaster  had  grown  very  rich,  a 
young  man,  Samuel  Sewell  by  name,  came  a-courting 
to  his  only  daughter.  His  daughter  —  whose  name 
I  do  not  know,  but  we  will  call  her  Betsey  —  was  a 
fine,  hearty  damsel,  by  no  means  so  slender  as  some 
young  ladies  of  our  own  days.  On  the  contrary, 
having  always  fed  heartily  on  pumpkin  pies,  dough- 
nuts, Indian  puddings,  and  other  Puritan  dainties,  she 
was  as  round  and  plump  as  a  pudding  herself.  With 
this  round,  rosy  Miss  Betsey  did  Samuel  Sewell  fall 
in  love.  As  he  was  a  young  man  of  good  character, 
industrious  in  his  business,  and  a  member  of  the 
church,  the  mintmaster  very  readily  gave  his  consent. 

"  Yes,  you  may  take  her,"  said  he  in  his  rough 
way  ;  "  and  you'll  find  her  a  heavy  burden  enough ! " 


48  grandfather's  chair. 

On  the  wedding  day,  we  may  suppose  that  honest 
John  Hull  dressed  himself  in  a  plum-colored  coat_ 
all  the  buttons  of  which  were  made  of  pine-tree 
shillings.  The  buttons  of  his  waistcoat  were  six- 
pences ;  and  the  knees  of  his  smallclothes  were  but- 
toned with  silver  threepences.  Thus  attired,  he  sat 
with  great  dignity  in  Grandfather's  chair  ;  and,  being 
a  portly  old  gentleman,  he  completely  filled  it  from 
elbow  to  elbow.  On  the  opposite  side  of  the  room, 
between  her  bridemaids,  sat  Miss  Betsey.  She  was 
blushing  with  all  her  might,  and  looked  like  a  full- 
blown peony,  or  a  great  red  apple. 

There,  too,  was  the  bridegroom,  dressed  in  a  fine 
purple  coat  and  gold  lace  waistcoat,  with  as  much 
other  finery  as  the  Puritan  laws  and  customs  would 
allow  him  to  put  on.  His  hair  was  cropped  close  to 
his  head,  because  Governor  Endicott  had  forbidden 
any  man  to  wear  it  below  the  ears.  But  he  was  a 
very  personable  young  man ;  and  so  thought  the 
bridemaids  and  Miss  Betsey  herself. 

The  mintmaster  also  was  pleased  with  his  new  son- 
in-law  ;  especially  as  he  had  courted  Miss  Betsey  out 
of  pure  love,  and  had  said  nothing  at  all  about  hei 
portion.  So,  when  the  marriage  ceremony  was  over, 
Captain  Hull  whispered  a  word  to  two  of  his  men 
servants,  who  immediately  went  out,  and  soon  re- 
turned, lugging  in  a  large  pair  of  scales.  They  were 
such  a  pair  as  wholesale  merchants  use  for  weigh 


grandfather's  chaib  49 

mg  Irdky  commodities;  and  quite  a  bulky  com- 
modity was  now  to  be  weighed  in  them. 

"  Daughter  Betsey,"  said  the  mintmaster,  "  get  in- 
to one  side  of  these  scales." 

Miss  Betsey  —  or  Mrs.  Sewell,  as  we  must  now  call 
her  —  did  as  she  was  bid,  like  a  dutiful  child,  without 
any  question  of  the  why  and  wherefore.  But  what 
her  father  could  mean,  unless  to  make  her  husband 
pay  for  her  by  the  pound,  (in  which  case  she  would 
have  been  a  dear  bargain,)  she  had  not  the  least  idea. 

"  And  now,"  said  honest  John  Hull  to  the  ser- 
vants, "  bring  that  box  hither." 

The  box  to  which  the  mintmaster  pointed  was  a 
huge,  square,  iron  bound,  oaken  chest ;  it  was  big 
enough,  my  children,  for  all  four  of  you  to  play  at 
hide-and-seek  in.  The  servants  tugged  with  might 
and  main,  but  could  not  lift  this  enormous  receptacle, 
and  were  finally  obliged  to  drag  it  across  the  floor. 
Captain  Hull  then  took  a  key  from  his  girdle,  un- 
locked the  chest,  and  lifted  its  ponderous  lid.  Be- 
hold !  it  was  full  to  the  brim  of  bright  pine-tree  shil- 
lings, fresh  from  the  mint ;  and  Samuel  Sewell  began 
to  think  that  his  father-in-law  had  got  possession,  of 
all  the  money  in  the  Massachusetts  treasury.  But  it 
was  only  the  mintmaster's  honest  share  of  the  coinage. 

Then  the  servants,  at  Captain  Hull's  command, 
heaped  double  handfuls  of  shillings  into  one  side  of 
the  scales,  while  Betsey  remained  in  the  other.  Jingle, 
4 


50  GRANDFATHER  S    CHAIR. 

jingle,  went  the  shillings,  as  handful  after  handful 
was  thrown  in,  till,  plump  and  ponderous  as  she  was 
they  fairly  weighed  the  young  lady  from  the  floor. 

"  There,  son  Sewell !  "  cried  the  honest  mintraaster, 
resuming  his  seat  in  Grandfather's  chair,  "  take  these 
shillings  for  my  daughter's  portion.  Use  her  kindly, 
and  thank  Heaven  for  her.  It  is  not  every  wife  that'i 
worth  her  weight  in  silver  !  " 

The  children  laughed  heartily  at  this  legend,  and 
would  hardly  be  convinced  but  that  Grandfather  had 
made  it  out  of  his  own  head.  He  assured  them  faith- 
fully, however,  that  he  had  found  it  in  the  pages  of 
a  grave  historian,  and  had  merely  tried  to  tell  it  in  a 
somewhat  funnier  style.  As  for  Samuel  Sewell,  he 
afterwards  became  chief  justice  of  Massachusetts. 

"  Well,  Grandfather,"  remarked  Clara,  "  if  wed- 
ding portions  nowadays  were  paid  as  Miss  Betsey's 
was,  young  ladies  would  not  pride  themselves  upon 
an  airy  figure,  as  many  of  them  do.' 


CHAPTER  VII. 

"When  his  little  audience  next  assembled  round 
the  chair,  Grandfather  gave  them  a  doleful  history  of 
the  Quaker  persecution,  which  began  in  1656,  and 
raged  for  about  three  years  in  Massachusetts. 

He  told  them  how,  in  the  first  place,  twelve  of  the 
con  rerts  of  George  Fox,  the  first  Quaker  in  the  world, 
had  come  over  from  England.  They  seemed  to  be  im- 
pelled by  an  earnest  love  for  the  souls  of  men,  and  a 
pure  desire  to  make  known  what  they  considered  a 
revelation  from  Heaven.  But  the  rulers  looked  upon 
them  as  plotting  the  downfall  of  all  government  and 
religion.  They  were  banished  from  the  colony.  In 
&  little  while,  however,  not  only  the  first  twelve  had 
i eturned,  but  a  multitude  of  other  Quakers  had  come 
to  rebuke  the  rulers  and  to  preach  against  the  priests 
and  steeple  houses. 

Grandfather  described  the  hatred  and  scorn  with 
which  these  enthusiasts  were  received.  They  were 
thrown  into  dungeons ;  they  were  beaten  with  many 
stripes,  women  as  well  as  men ;    they  were  drivec 

151) 


52  grandfather's  chair. 

forth  into  the  wilderness,  and  left  to  the  tender  mer- 
cies of  wild  beasts  and  Indians.  The  children  were 
amazed  to  hear  that  the  more  the  Quakers  were 
scourged,  and  imprisoned,  and  banished,  the  more 
did  the  sect  increase,  both  by  the  influx  of  strangers 
and  by  converts  from  among  the  Puritans.  But 
Grandfather  told  them  that  God  had  put  something 
into  the  soul  of  man,  which  always  turned  the  cruel- 
ties of  the  persecutor  to  nought. 

He  went  on  to  relate,  that,  in  1659,  two  Quakers, 
named  William  Robinson  and  Marmaduke  Stephen- 
son, were  hanged  at  Boston.  A  woman  had  been 
sentenced  to  die  with  them,  but  was  reprieved  on 
condition  of  her  leaving  the  colony.  Her  name  was 
Mary  Dyer.  In  the  year  1660  she  returned  to  Bos- 
ton, although  she  knew  death  awaited  her  there  ;  and, 
if  Grandfather  had  been  correctly  informed,  an  inci- 
dent had  then  taken  place  which  connects  her  with 
our  story.  This  Mary  Dyer  had  entered  the  mint- 
master's  dwelling,  clothed  in  sackcloth  and  ashes, 
and  seated  herself  in  our  great  chair  with  a  sort  of 
dignity  and  state.  Then  sire  proceeded  to  deliver 
what  she  called  a  message  from  Heaven ;  but  in  the 
midst  of  it  they  dragged  her  to  prison. 

"  And  was  she  executed  ?  "  asked  Laurence. 

"  She  was,"  said  Grandfather. 

"  Grandfather,"  cried  Charley,  clinching  his  fist 
"  I  \rould  have  fought  for  that  poor  Quaker  woman  1 '' 


GRANDFATHER  S    CHAIR.  53 

"  A.h,  but  if  a  sword  had  been  drawn  for  her/' 
said  Laurence.  "  it  would  have  taken  away  all  the 
beauty  of  her  death." 

It  seemed  as  if  hardly  any  of  the  preceding  stories 
had  thrown  such  an  interest  around  Grandfather's 
chair  as  did  the  fact  that  the  poor,  persecuted,  wan- 
dering Quaker  woman  had  rested  in  it  for  a  moment. 
The  children  were  so  much  excited  that  Grandfather 
found  it  necessary  to  bring  his  account  of  the  perse- 
cution to  a  close. 

"  In  16G0,  the  same  year  in  which  Mary  Dyer 
was  executed,"  said  he,  "  Charles  II.  was  restored 
to  the  throne  of  his  fathers.  This  king  had  many 
vices  ;  but  he  would  not  permit  blood  to  be  shed, 
under  pretence  of  religion,  in  any  part  of  his  do- 
minions. The  Quakers  in  England  told  him  what 
had  been  done  to  their  brethren  in  Massachusetts ; 
and  he  sent  orders  to  Governor  Endicott  to  forbear 
all  such  proceedings  in  future.  And  so  ended  the 
Quaker  persecution  —  one  of  the  most  mournful 
passages  in  the  history  of  our  forefathers." 

Grandfather  then  told  his  auditors,  that,  shortly 
after  the  above  incident,  the  great  chair  had  been 
given  by  the  mintmaster  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  John  Eliot. 
lie  was  the  first  minister  of  Roxbury.  But  besides 
attending  to  his  pastoral  duties  there,  he  learned  the 
language  of  the  red  men,  and  often  wen:  into  the 
woods  to  preach  to  them.     So  earnestly  did  he  labor 


54  GRANDFATHER  S    CHAIR. 

for  their  conversion  that  he  has  always  been  called 
the  apostle  to  the  Indians.  The  mention  of  this  holy 
man  suggested  to  Grandfather  the  propriety  of  giving 
a  brief  sketch  of  the  history  of  the  Indians,  so  far  as 
they  were  connected  with  the  English  colonists. 

A  short  period  before  the  arrival  of  the  first  Pil- 
grims at  Plymouth  there  had  been  a  very  grievous 
plague  among  the  red  men  ;  and  the  sages  and  min- 
isters of  that  day  were  inclined  to  the  opinion  that 
Providence  had  sent  this  mortality  in  order  to  make 
room  for  the  settlement  of  the  English.  But  I  know 
aot  why  we  should  suppose  that  an  Indian's  life  is 
less  precious,  in  the  eye  of  Heaven,  than  that  of  » 
white  man.  Be  that  as  it  may,  death  had  certainh 
been  very  busy  with  the  savage  tribes. 

In  many  places  the  English  found  the  wigwams 
deserted  and  the  cornfields  growing  to  waste,  with 
none  to  harvest  the  grain.  There  were  heaps  of 
earth  also,  which,  being  dug  open,  proved  to  be  In- 
dian graves,  containing  bows  and  flint-headed  spears 
and  arrows  ;  for  the  Indians  buried  the  dead  warrior's 
weapons  along  with  him.  In  some  spots  there  were 
skulls  and  other  human  bones  lying  unburied.  In 
1633,  and  the  year  afterwards,  the  small  pox  broke 
out  among  the  Massachusetts  Indians,  multitudes  of 
whom  died  by  this  terrible  disease  of  the  old  world. 
These  misfortunes  made  them  far  less  powerful  that 
they  had  formerly  been. 


grandfather's  chaik.  55 

For  nearly  half  a  century  after  the  arrival  of  the 
English  the  red  men  showed  themselves  generally 
inclined  to  peace  and  amity.  They  often  made  sub- 
mission when  they  might  have  made  successful  war. 
The  Plymouth  settlers,  led  by  the  famous  Captain 
Miles  Standish,  slew  some  of  them,  in  1623,  with- 
out any  very  evident  necessity  for  so  doing.  In 
1636,  and  the  following  year,  there  was  the  most 
dreadful  war  that  had  yet  occurred  between  the  In- 
dians and  the  English.  The  Connecticut  settlers, 
assisted  by  a  celebrated  Indian  chief  named  Uncas, 
bore  the  brunt  of  this  war,  with  but  little  aid  from 
Massachusetts.  Many  hundreds  of  the  hostile  Indians 
were  slain  or  burned  in  their  wigwams.  Sassacus, 
their  sachem,  fled  to  another  tribe,  after  his  own  peo- 
ple were  defeated;  but  he  was  murdered  by  them, 
and  his  head  was  sent  to  his  English  enemies. 

From  that  period  down  to  the  time  of  King 
Philip's  war,  which  will  be  mentioned  hereafter, 
there  was  not  much  trouble  with  the  Indians.  Rut 
the  colonists  were  always  on  their  guard,  and  kept 
their  weapons  ready  for  the  conflict. 

"  I  have  sometimes  doubted,"  said  Grandfather, 
when  he  had  told  these  things  to  the  children,  —  "  I 
have  sometimes  doubted  whether  there  was  more  than 
a  single  man,  among  our  forefathers,  who  realized  that 
in  Indian  possesses  a  mind,  and  a  heart,  and  an  im- 
mortal soul.     That  single  man  was  John  Eliot.      All 


56  grandfather's  chair. 

the  rest  of  the  early  settlers  seemed  to  think  that  the 
Indians  were  an  inferior  race  of  beings,  whom  the 
Creator  had  merely  allowed  to  keep  possession  of 
this  beautiful  country  till  the  white  men  should  be 
in  want  of  it." 

"  Did  the  pious  men  of  those  days  never  try  to 
make  Christians  of  them  ?  "  asked  Laurence. 

"  Sometimes,  it  is  true,"  answered  Grandfather, 
"  the  magistrates  and  ministers  would  talk  about  civ- 
ilizing and  converting  the  red  people.  But,  at  the 
bottom  of  their  hearts,  they  would  have  had  almost 
as  much  expectation  of  civilizing  the  wild  bear  of 
the  woods  and  making  him  fit  for  paradise.  They 
felt  no  faith  in  the  success  of  any  such  attempts,  be- 
cause they  had  no  love  for  the  poor  Indians.  Now, 
Eliot  was  full  of  love  for  them  ;  and  therefore  so  full 
of  faith  and  hope  that  he  spent  the  labor  of  a  life- 
time in  their  behalf." 

"  I  would  have  conquered  them  first,  and  then  con 
verted  them,"  said  Charley. 

"Ah,  Charley,  there  spoke  the  very  spirit  of  our 
forefathers  !  "  replied  Grandfather.  "  But  Mr.  Eliot 
had  a  better  spirit.  He  looked  upon  them  as  his 
brethren.  He  persuaded  as  many  of  them  as  he 
could  to  leave  off  their  idle  and  wandering  habits, 
and  to  build  houses,  and  cultivate  the  earth,  as  the 
English  did.  He  established  schools  among  them, 
tnd  taught  many  of  the  Indians  how  to  read.      He 


grandfather's  chair.  57 

taught  them,  likewise,  how  to  pray.  Hence  they 
were  called  '  praying  Indians.'  Finally,  having 
spent  the  best  years  of  his  life  for  their  good,  Mr. 
Eliot  resolved  to  spend  the  remainder  in  doing  them 
a  ydt  greater  benefit." 

"  I  know  what  that  was  !  "  cried  Laurence. 

"  He  sat  down  in  his  study,"  continued  Grand- 
father, "  and  began  a  translation  of  the  Bible  into 
the  Indian  tongue.  It  was  while  he  was  engaged  in 
this  pious  work  that  the  mintmaster  gave  him  ou^ 
great  chair.      His  toil  needed  it  and  deserved  it." 

"  O,  Grandfather,  tell  us  all  about  that  Indian 
Bible !  "  exclaimed  Laurence.  "  I  have  seen  it  in 
the  library  of  the  Athenaeum  ;  and  the  tears  came  in- 
to my  eyes  to  think  that  there  were  no  Indians  left 
to   read  it." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

As  Grandfather  was  a  great  admirer  of  the  apostle 
Eliot,  he  was  glad  to  comply  with  the  earnest  request 
which  Laurence  had  made  at  the  close  of  the  last 
chapter.  So  he  proceeded  to  describe  how  good  Mr. 
Eliot  labored,  while  he  was  at  work  upon 

THE  INDIAN   BLBLE. 

My  dear  children,  what  a  task  would  you  think  it, 
even  with  a  long  lifetime  before  you,  were  you  bid- 
den to  copy  every  chapter,  and  verse,  and  word  in 
yonder  family  Bible  !  Would  not  this  be  a  heavy 
toil  ?  But  if  the  task  were,  not  to  write  off  the 
English  Bible,  but  to  learn  a  language  utterly  unlike 
all  other  tongues,  —  a  language  which  hitherto  had 
never  been  learned,  except  by  the  Indians  them- 
selves, from  their  mothers'  lips,  —  a  language  never 
written,  and  the  strange  words  of  which  seemed  in- 
expressible by  letters,  —  if  the  task  were,  first  to 
learn  this  new  variety  of  speech,  and  then  to  translate 


GRANDFATHER  S    CHAIR.  5J» 

the  Bible  into  it,  and  to  do  it  so  carefully  that  not 
one  idea  throughout  the  holy  book  should  be  changed, 
—  what  would  induce  you  to  undertake  this  toil  ' 
Yet  this  was  what  the  apostle  Eliot  did. 

It  was  a  mighty  work  for  a  man,  now  growing  old. 
to  take  upon  himself.  And  what  earthly  reward 
could  he  expect  from  it  ?  None ;  no  reward  on 
earth.  But  he  believed  that  the  red  men  were  the 
descendants  of  those  lost  tribes  of  Israel  of  whom 
history  has  been  able  to  tell  us  nothing  for  thousands 
of  years.  He  hoped  that  God  had  sent  the  English 
across  the  ocean,  Gentiles  as  they  were,  to  enlighten 
this  benighted  portion  of  his  once  chosen  race.  And 
when  he  should  be  summoned  hence,  he  trusted  to 
meet  blessed  spirits  in  another  world,  whose  bliss 
would  have  been  earned  by  his  patient  toil  in  trans- 
lating the  word  of  God.  This  hope  and  trust  were 
far  dearer  to  him  than  any  thing  that  earth  could  offer. 

Sometimes,  while  thus  at  work,  he  was  visited  by 
learned  men,  who  desired  to  know  what  literary  un- 
dertaking Mr.  Eliot  had  in  hand.  They,  like  him- 
self, had  been  bred  in  the  studious  cloisters  of  a  uni- 
versity, and  were  supposed  to  possess  all  the  erudi- 
tion which  mankind  has  hoarded  up  from  age  to  age 
Greek  and  Latin  were  as  familiar  to  them  as  the  bab- 
ble of  their  childhood.  Hebrew  was  like  their  mother 
tongue.  They  had  grown  gray  in  study  ;  their  e/es 
were  bleared  with  poring  over  print  and  manuscript 
by  the  light  of  the  midnight  lamp. 


6G  grandfather's  chaia. 

And  yet,  how  much  had  they  left  unlearned  !  Mr, 
Eliot  would  put  into  their  hands  some  of  the  pages 
which  he  had  been  writing  ;  and  behold  !  the  gray- 
headed  men  stammered  over  the  long,  strange  words, 
like  a  little  child  in  his  first  attempts  to  read.  Then 
would  the  apostle  call  to  him  an  Indian  boy,  one  of 
his  scholars,  and  show  him  the  manuscript  which 
•had  so  puzzled  the  learned  Englishmen. 

"  Read  this,  my  child,"  said  he ;  "these  are  some 
brethren  of  mine,  who  would  fain  hear  the  sound  of 
thy  native  tongue." 

Then  would  the  Indian  boy  cast  his  eyes  over  the 
mysterious  page,  and  read  it  so  skilfully  that  it 
sounded  like  wild  music.  It  seemed  as  if  the  forest 
leaves  were  singing  in  the  ears  of  his  auditors,  and  as 
if  the  roar  of  distant  streams  were  poured  through 
the  young  Indian's  voice.  Such  were  the  sounds 
amid  which  the  language  of  the  red  man  had  been 
formed  ;  and  they  were  still  heard  to  echo  in  it. 

The  lesson  being  over,  Mr.  Eliot  would  give  the 
Indian  boy  an  apple  or  a  cake,  and  bid  him  leap  forth 
into  the  open  air  which  his  free  nature  loved.  The 
apostle  was  kind  to  children,  and  even  shared  in  their 
sports  sometimes.  And  when  his  visitors  had  bid- 
den him  farewell,  the  good  man  turned  patiently  to 
his  tcil  again. 

Nc  other  Englishman  had  ever  understood  the 
[ndian  character  so  well,  nor  possessed  so  great  an 


grandfather's  chair.  61 

influence  over  the  New  England  tribes,  as  the  apostle 
did.  His  advice  and  assistance  must  often  have  been 
valuable  to  his  countrymen  in  their  transactions  with 
the  Indians.  Occasionally,  perhaps,  the  governor 
and  some  of  the  councillors  came  to  visit  Mr.  Eliot 
Perchance  they  were  seeking  some  method  to  circum- 
vent the  forest  people.  They  inquired,  it  may  be, 
how  they  could  obtain  possession  of  such  and  such  a 
tract  of  their  rich  land.  Or  they  talked  of  making 
the  Indians  their  servants  ;  as  if  God  had  destined 
them  for  perpetual  bondage  to  the  more  powerful 
white  man. 

Perhaps,  too,  some  warlike  captain,  dressed  in  his 
buff  coat,  with  a  corslet  beneath  it,  accompanied  the 
governor  and  councillors.  Laying  his  hand  upon  Ins 
sword  hilt,  he  would  declare,  that  the  only  method 
of  dealing  with  the  red  men  was  to  meet  them  with 
the  sword  drawn  and  the  musket  presented. 

But  the  apostle  resisted  both  the  craft  of  the  poli- 
tician and  the  fierceness  of  the  warrior. 

"  Treat  these  sons  of  the  forest  as  men  and  breth- 
ren," he  would  say  :  "  and  let  us  endeavor  to  make 
them  Christians.  Their  forefathers  were  of  that 
chosen  race  whom  God  delivered  from  Egyptian 
bondage.  Perchance  he  has  destined  us  to  deliver 
the  children  from  the  more  cruel  bondage  of  igno- 
rance and  idolatry.  Chiefly  for  this  end,  it  may  be, 
«ve  were  directed  across  the  ocean." 


62  GRANDFATHERS    CHAIR. 

When  these  other  visitors  were  gone,  Mr.  Eliot 
bent  himself  again  over  the  half-written  page.  He 
dared  hardly  relax,  a  moment  from  his  toil.  He  felt 
that,  in  the  book  which  he  was  translating,  there  was 
a  deep  human  as  well  as  heavenly  wisdom,  which 
would  of  itself  suffice  to  civilize  and  refine  the  savage 
tribes.  Let  the  Bible  be  diffused  among  them,  and 
all  earthly  good  would  follow.  But  how  slight  a 
consideration  was  this,  when  he  reflected  that  the 
eternal  welfare  of  a  whole  race  of  men  depended  up- 
on his  accomplishment  of  the  task  which  he  had  set 
himself!  What  if  his  hands  should  be  palsied? 
What  if  his  mind  should  lose  its  vigor  ?  What  if 
death  should  come  upon  him  ere  the  work  were 
done  ?  Then  must  the  red  man  wander  in  the  dark 
wilderness  of  heathenism  forever. 

Impelled  by  such  thoughts  as  these,  he  sat  writ- 
ing in  the  great  chair  when  the  pleasant  summer 
breeze  came  in  through  his  open  casement ;  and  also 
when  the  fire  of  forest  logs  sent  up  its  blaze  and 
smoke,  through  the  broad  stone  chimney,  into  the 
wintry  air.  Before  the  earliest  bird  sang  in  the 
morning  the  apostle's  lamp  was  kindled ;  and,  at 
midnight,  his  weary  head  was  not  yet  upon  its  pil- 
low. And  at  length,  leaning  back  in  the  great  chair, 
he  could  say  to  himself,  with  a  holy  triumph, 
"  The  work  is  finished  !  " 

It  was  finished.     Here  was  a  Bible  for  the  Indiau> 


grandfather's    chair.  63 

Those  long-lost  descendants  of  the  ten  tribes  of  Israel 
would  now  learn  the  history  of  their  forefathers. 
That  grace  which  the  ancient  Israelites  had  forfeited 
was  offered  anew  to  their  children. 

There  is  no  impiety  in  believing  that,  when  his 
long  life  was  over,  the  apostle  of  the  Indians  was 
welcomed  to  the  celestial  abodes  by  the  prophets  of 
ancient  days  and  by  those  earliest  apostles  and  evan- 
gelists who  had  drawn  their  inspiration  from  the 
immediate  presence  of  the  Savior.  They  first  had 
preached  truth  and  salvation  to  the  world.  And 
Eliot,  separated  from  them  by  many  centuries,  yet 
full  of  the  same  spirit,  had  borne  the  like  message  to 
the  new  world  of  the  west.  Since  the  first  days  of 
Christianity,  there  has  been  no  man  more  worthy  to 
be  numbered  in  the  brotherhood  of  the  apostles 
than  Eliot. 

"My  heart  is  not  satisfied  to  think,"  observed 
Laurence,  "  that  Mr.  Eliot's  labors  have  done  no 
good  except  to  a  few  Indians  of  his  own  time. 
Doubtless  he  would  not  have  regretted  his  toil,  if  it 
were  the  means  of  saving  but  a  single  soul.  But  it 
is  a  grievous  thing  to  me  that  he  should  have  toiled 
so  hard  to  translate  the  Bible,  and  now  the  language 
and  the  people  are  gone !  The  Indian  Bible  itself  is 
almost  the  only  relic  of  both." 

"  Laurence,"  said  his  Grandfather,  "  if  ever  you 
should    doubt   that   man   is   capable  of  disinterested 


64  GRANDFATHER  S    CHAIR. 

zeal  for  his  brother's  good,  then  remember  how  the 
apostle  Eliot  toiled.  And  if  you  should  feel  your 
own  self-interest  pressing  upon  your  heart  too  closely, 
then  think  of  Eliot's  Indian  Bible.  It  is  good  for 
the  "world  that  such  a  man  has  lived  and  left  this 
emblem  of  his  life." 

The  tears  gushed  into  the  eyes  of  Laurence,  and  he 
acknowledged  that  Eliot  had  not  toiled  in  vain.  lit- 
tle Alice  put  up  her  arms  to  Grandfather,  and  drew 
down  his  white  head  beside  her  own  golden  locks. 

"  Grandfather,"  whispered  she,  "  I  want  to  kiss 
good  Mr.  Eliot!" 

And,  doubtless,  good  Mr.  Eliot  would  gladly  re- 
ceive the  kiss  of  so  sweet  a  child  as  little  Alice,  and 
would  think  it  a  portion  of  his  reward  in  heaven. 

Grandfather  now  observed  that  Dr.  Francis  had 
written  a  very  beautiful  Life  of  Eliot,  which  he  advised 
Laurence  to  peruse.  He  then  spoke  of  King  Philip's 
war,  which  began  in  1675,  and  terminated  with  the 
death  of  King  Philip,  in  the  following  year.  Philip 
was  a  proud,  fierce  Indian,  whom  Mr.  Eliot  had 
vainly  endeavored  to  convert  to  the  Christian  faith. 

"  It  must  have  been  a  great  anguish  to  the  apostle," 
continued  Grandfather,  "  to  hear-  of  mutual  slaughter 
and  outrage  between  his  own  countrymen  and  those 
for  whom  he  felt  the  affection  of  a  father.  A  few  cf 
the  praying  Indians  joined  the  followers  of  King 
Philip.  A  greater  number  fought  on  the  side  of  the 
English-      In  the  course  of  the  war,  the  little  com- 


GRANDFATHER  S    CHAIR.  65 

munity  of  red  people  whom  Mr.  Eliot  had  begun  to 
sivilize  was  scattered,  and  probably  never  was  re- 
stored to  a  flourishing  condition.  But  his  zeal  did 
not  grow  cold  ;  and  only  about  five  years  before  his 
leath  he  took  great  pains  in  preparing  a  new  edition 
of  the  Indian  Bible." 

"  I  do  wish,  Grandfather,"  cried  Charley,  "  you 
vould  tell  us  all  about  the  battles  ir_  King  Philip's 
var." 

"  O,  no  !  "  exclaimed  Clara.  "  Who  wants  to  hear 
about  tomahawks  and  scalping  knives  ?  " 

"  No,  Charley,"  replied  Grandfather,  "  I  have  no 
time  to  spare  in  talking  about  battles.  You  must  be 
content  with  knowing  that  it  was  the  bloodiest  war 
that  the  Indians  had  ever  waged  against  the  white 
men ;  and  that,  at  its  close,  the  English  set  King 
Philip's  head  upon  a  pole." 

"  Who  was  the  captain  of  the  English  ? "  asked 
Charley. 

"  Their  most  noted  captain  was  Benjamin  Church 
—  a  very  famous  warrior,"  said  Grandfather.  "  But 
I  assure  you,  Charley,  that  neither  Captain  Church, 
nor  any  of  the  officers  and  soldiers  who  fought  in 
King  Philip's  war,  did  any  thing  a  thousandth  part 
so  glorious  as  Mr.  Eliot  did  when  he  translated  the 
Bible  for  the  Indians." 

"Let  Laurence  be  the  apostle,"  siid  Char\ey  to 
foimself,  "and  I  will  be  the  captain." 
5 


CHAPTER   IX. 

The  children  were  now  accustomed  to  assemble 
round  Grandfather's  chair  at  all  their  unocupied  mo- 
ments ;  and  often  it  was  a  striking  picture  to  behold 
the  whiteheaded  old  sire,  with  this  flowery  wreath 
of  young  people  around  him.  When  he  talked  to 
them,  it  was  the  past  speaking  to  the  present,  or  rather 
to  the  future  —  for  the  children  were  of  a  generation 
which  had  not  become  actual.  Their  part  in  life, 
thus  far,  was  only  to  be  happy  and  to  draw  knowl- 
edge from  a  thousand  sources.  As  yet,  it  was  not 
their  time  to  do. 

Sometimes,  as  Grandfather  gazed  at  their  fair,  un- 
worldly countenances,  a  mist  of  tears  bedimmed  his 
spectacles.  He  almost  regretted  that  it  was  neces- 
sary for  them  to  know  any  thing  of  the  past  or  to 
provide  aught  for  the  future.  He  could  have  wished 
that  they  might  be  always  the  happy,  youthful  crea- 
tures who  had  hitherto  sported  around  his  chair 
without  inquiring  whether  it  had  a  history.  It 
grieved  him  to  think  that  his  little  Alice,  who  was  a 


grandfather's  chair.  67 

flower  bud  fresh  from  paradise,  must  open  her  leaves 
ro  the  rough  breezes  of  the  world,  or  ever  open  them 
in  any  clime.  So  sweet  a  child  she  was,  that  it 
seemed  fit  her  infancy  should  be  immortal. 

But  such  repinings  were  merely  flitting  shadows 
across  the  old  man's  heart.  He  had  faith  enough  to 
believe,  and  wisdom  enough  to  know,  that  the  bloom 
of  the  flower  would  be  even  holier  and  happier  than 
its  bud.  Even  within  himself  (though  Grandfather 
was  now  at  that  period  of  life  when  the  veil  of  mor- 
tality is  apt  to  hang  heavily  over  the  soul,  still,  in 
his  inmost  being)  he  was  conscious  of  something  that 
he  would  not  have  exchanged  for  the  best  happiness 
of  childhood.  It  was  a  bliss  to  which  every  sort  of 
earthly  experience  —  all  that  he  had  enjoyed,  or  suf- 
fered, or  seen,  or  heard,  or  acted,  with  the  broodings 
of  his  soul  upon  the  whole  —  had  contributed  some- 
what. In  the  same  manner  must  a  bliss,  of  which 
now  they  could  have  no  conception,  grow  up  within 
these  children,  and  form  a  part  of  their  sustenance 
for  immortality. 

So  Grandfather,  with  renewed  cheerfulness,  con- 
tinued his  history  of  the  chair,  trusting  that  a  pro- 
founder  wisdom  than  his  own  would  extract,  from 
these  flowers  and  weeds  of  Time,  a  fragrance  that 
m'.ght  last  beyond  all  time. 

At  this  period  of  the  story  Grandfather  threw  a 
glance  backward  as  far  as  the  year  1660.     He  spoke 


68  GRANDFATHER  S    CHAIR. 

of  the  ill-concealed  reluctance  witn  which  the  Puri 
tans  in  America  had  acknowledged  the  sway  of 
Charles  II.  on  his  restoration  to  his  father's  throne. 
When  death  had  stricken  Oliver  Cromwell,  that 
mighty  protector  had  no  sincerer  mourners  than  in 
New  England.  The  new  king  had  been  more  than 
a  year  upon  the  throne  before  his  accession  was  pro- 
claimed in  Boston  ;  although  the  neglect  to  perform 
the  ceremony  might  have  subjected  the  rulers  to  the 
charge  of  treason. 

During  the  reign  of  Charles  II.,  however,  the 
American  colonies  had  but  little  reason  to  complain 
of  harsh  or  tyrannical  treatment.  But  when  Charles 
died,  in  1685,  and  was  succeeded  by  his  brother 
James,  the  patriarchs  of  New  England  began  to  trem- 
ble. King  James  was  a  bigoted  Roman  Catholic, 
and  was  known  to  be  of  an  arbitrary  temper.  It  was 
feared  by  all  Protestants,  and  chiefly  by  the  Puritans, 
that  he  would  assume  despotic  power  and  attempt  to 
establish  Popery  throughout  his  dominions.  Our 
forefathers  felt  that  they  had  no  security  either  for 
iheir  religion  or  their  liberties. 

The  result  proved  that  they  had  reason  for  their 
apprehensions.  King  James  caused  the  charters  of 
all  the  American  colonies  to  be  taken  away.  The 
old  charter  of  Massachusetts,  which  the  people  re- 
garded as  a  holy  thing  and  as  the  foundation  of  all 
their    liberties,   was    declared   void.      The  colonist* 


grandfather's  ciiair  69 

were  now  no  longer  freemen  ;  they  were  entirely  de- 
pendent on  the  king's  pleasure.  At  first,  in  1685, 
King  James  appointed  Joseph  Dudley,  a  native  of 
Massachusetts,  to  be  President  of  New  England. 
But  soon  afterwards  Sir  Edmund  Andros,  an  officer 
of  the  English  army,  arrived,  with  a  commission  to 
be  governor  general  of  New  England  and  New  York. 

The  king  had  given  such  powers  to  Sir  Edmund 
Andros  that  there  was  now  no  liberty,  nor  scarcely 
any  law,  in  the  colonies  over  which  he  ruled.  The 
inhabitants  were  not  allowed  to  choose  representa- 
tives, and  consequently  had  no  voice  whatever  in  the 
government,  nor  control  over  the  measures  that  were 
adopted.  The  councillors  with  whom  the  governor 
consulted  on  matters  of  state  were  appointed  by 
himself.  This  sort  of  government  was  no  better 
than  an  absolute  despotism. 

"  The  people  suffered  much  wrong  while  Sir  Ed- 
mund Andros  ruled  over  them,"  continued  Grand- 
father ;  "  and  they  were  apprehensive  of  much  more. 
He  had  brought  some  soldiers  with  him  from  Eng- 
land, who  took  possession  of  the  old  fortress  on 
Castle  Island  and  of  the  fortification  on  Fort  Hill. 
Sometimes  it  was  rumored  that  a  general  massacre  of 
the  inhabitants  was  to  be  perpetrated  by  these  sol- 
diers. There  were  reports,  too,  that  all  the  minis 
ters  were  to  be  slain  or  imprisoned." 

"  For  what  ?  "  inquired  Charley. 


70  grandfather's  chair. 

"  Because  they  were  the  leaders  of  the  people, 
Charley,"  said  Grandfather.  "  A  minister  was  a 
more  formidable  man  than  a  general  in  those  days. 
Well,  while  these  things  were  going  on  in  America, 
King  James  had  so  misgoverned  the  people  of  Eng- 
land that  they  sent  over  to  Holland  for  the  Prince 
of  Orange.  He  had  married  the  king's  daughter, 
and  was  therefore  considered  to  have  a  claim  to  the 
crown.  On  his  arrival  in  England,  the  Prince  of 
Orange  was  proclaimed  king,  by  the  name  of  William 
III.  Poor  old  King  James  made  his  escape  to 
France." 

Grandfather  told  how,  at  the  first  intelligence  of 
the  landing  of  the  Prince  of  Orange  in  England,  the 
people  of  Massachusetts  rose  in  their  strength  and 
overthrew  the  government  of  Sir  Edmund  Andros. 
He,  with  Joseph  Dudley,  Edmund  Randolph,  and  his 
other  principal  adherents,  was  thrown  into  prison. 
Old  Simon  Bradstreet,  who  had  been  governor  when 
King  James  took  away  the  charter,  was  called  by  the 
people  to  govern  them  again. 

"  Governor  Bradstreet  was  a  venerable  old  man, 
nearly  ninety  years  of  age,"  said  Grandfather.  "He 
came  over  with  the  first  settlers,  and  had  been  the 
intimate  companion  of  all  those  excellent  and  famous 
men  who  laid  the  foundation  of  our  country.  They 
were  all  gone  before  him  to  the  grave  ;  and  Brad 
street  was  the  last  of  the  Puritans." 


grandfather's  chair.  71 

Grandfather  paused  a  moment  and  smiled,  as  if 
he  had  something  very  interesting  to  tell  his  auditors. 
He  then  proceeded  :  — 

"  And  now,  Laurence,  —  now,  Clara,  —  now, 
Charley,  —  now,  my  dear  little  Alice,  —  what  chair 
do  you  think  had  been  placed  in  the  council  chamber, 
for  old  Governor  Bradstreet  to  take  his  seat  in  ? 
Would  you  believe  that  it  was  this  very  chair  in 
which  Grandfather  now  sits,  and  of  which  he  is 
telling  you  the  history  ?  " 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,  with  all  my  heart !  "  cried 
Charley,  after  a  shout  of  delight.  "  I  thought  Grand 
father  had  quite  forgotten  the  chair." 

"  It  was  a  solemn  and  affecting  sight,"  said  Grand- 
father, "  when  this  venerable  patriarch,  with  his  white 
beard  flowing  down  upon  his  breast,  took  his  seat  in 
his  chair  of  state.  Within  his  remembrance,  and 
even  since  his  mature  age,  the  site  where  now  stood 
the  populous  town  had  been  a  wild  and  forest-cov- 
ered peninsula.  The  province,  now  so  fertile  and 
spotted  with  thriving  villages,  had  been  a  desert 
wilderness.  He  was  surrounded  by  a  shouting  mul- 
titude, most  of  whom  had  been  born  in  the  country 
which  he  had  helped  to  found.  They  were  of  one 
generation,  and  he  of  another.  As  the  old  man 
looked  upon  them,  and  beheld  new  faces  every 
where,  he  must  have  felt  that  it  was  now  time  for 
him  to  go,  whither  his  brethren  had  gone  before  him." 


72  GRANDFATHER'S    CHAIR. 

"  Were  the  former  governors  all  dead  and  gone  ?  *' 
asked  Laurence. 

"  All  of  them,"  replied  Grandfather.  "  Winthrop 
had  been  dead  forty  years.  Endicott  died,  a  very 
old  man,  in  1665.  Sir  Henry  Vane  was  beheaded,  in 
London,  at  the  beginning  of  the  reign  of  Charles  II. 
And  Haynes,  Dudley,  Bellingham,  and  Leverett,  who 
had  all  been  governors  of  Massachusetts,  were  now 
likewise  in  their  graves.  Old  Simon  Bradstreet  was 
the  sole  representative  of  that  departed  brotherhood. 
There  was  no  other  public  man  remaining  to  connect 
the  ancient  system  of  government  and  manners  with 
the  new  system  which  was  about  to  take  its  place. 
The  era  of   the  Puritans  was  now  completed." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  it !  "  observed  Laurence  ;  "  for 
though  they  were  so  stern,  yet  it  seems  to  me  that 
there  was  something  warm  and  real  about  them.  I 
think,  Grandfather,  that  each  of  these  old  governors 
should  have  his  statue  set  up  in  our  State  House, 
sculptured  out  of  the  hardest  of  New  England 
granite." 

"  It  would  not  be  amiss,  Laurence,"  said  Grand- 
father ;  "  but  perhaps  clay,  or  some  other  perishable 
material,  might  suffice  for  some  of  their  successors. 
But  let  us  go  back  to  our  chair.  It  was  occupied  by 
Governor  Bradstreet  from  April,  1689,  until  May, 
1692.  Sir  William  Phipps  then  arrived  in  Bostoc 
with  a  new  charter  from  King  William  and  a  com 
mission  to  be  governor." 


CHAPTER  X. 

"  And  what  became  of  the  chair  ?  "  inquired  Clara. 

"  The  outward  aspect  of  our  chair,"  replied  Grand- 
father, "was  now  somewhat  the  worse  for  its  long 
and  arduous  services.  It  was  considered  hardly  mag- 
nificent enough  to  be  allowed  to  keep  its  place  in  the 
council  chamber  of  Massachusetts.  In  fact,  it  was 
banished  as  an  article  of  useless  lumber.  But  Sir 
William  Phipps  happened  to  see  it,  and,  being  much 
pleased  with  its  construction,  resolved  to  take  the 
good  old  chair  into  his  private  mansion.  Accord- 
ingly, with  his  own  gubernatorial  hands,  he  repaired 
one  of  its  arms,  which  had  been  slightly  damaged." 

"  Why,  Grandfather,  here  is  the  very  arm  !  "  inter- 
rupted Charley,  in  great  wonderment.  "  And  did 
Sir  William  Phipps  put  in  these  screws  with  his  own 
hands  ?  I  am  sure  he  did  it  beautifully !  But  how 
came  a  governor  to  know  how  to  mend  a  chair  ?  " 

"  I  will  tell  you  a  story  aoout  the  early  life  of  Sir 
William  Phipps,"  said  Grandfather.  "  You  will  theu 
perceive  that  he  well  knew  how  to  use  his  hands." 

cm 


74  grandfather's  chair. 

So  Grandfather  related  the  wonderful  and  true 
tale  of 

THE   SUNKEN   TREASURE. 

Picture  to  yourselves,  my  dear  children,  a  hand- 
some, old-fashioned  room,  with  a  large,  open  cup- 
board at  one  end,  in  which  is  displayed  a  magnificent 
gold  cup,  with  s^me  other  splendid  articles  of  gold 
and  silver  plate.  In  another  part  of  the  room,  op- 
posite to  a  tall  looking  glass,  stands  our  beloved  chair, 
t;ewly  polished,  and  adorned  with  a  gorgeous  cushion 
of  crimson  velvet  tufted  with  gold. 

In  the  chair  sits  a  man  of  strong  and  sturdy  frame, 
whose  face  has  been  roughened  by  northern  tempests 
and  blackened  by  the  burning  sun  of  the  West  Indies. 
He  wears  an  immense  periwig,  flowing  down  over 
his  shoulders.  His  coat  has  a  wide  embroidery  of 
golden  foliage ;  and  his  waistcoat,  likewise,  is  all 
flowered  over  and  bedizened  with  gold.  His  red, 
rough  hands,  which  have  done  many  a  good  day's 
work  with  the  hammer  and  adze,  are  half  covered  by 
the  delicate  lace  ruffles  at  his  wrists.  On  a  table  lies 
his  silver-hilted  sword  ;  and  in  a  corner  of  the  room 
stands  his  gold-headed  cane,  made  of  a  beautifully 
polished  West  India  wood. 

Somewhat  such  an  aspect  as  this  did  Sir  William 
Phipps  present  when  he  sat  in  Grandfather's  chair, 
after  the  king  had  appointed  him  governor  of  Mas- 


•iandfather's  chair.  75 

sachusetts.  Truly  there  was  need  that  the  old  chaii 
should  be  varnished  and  decorated  with  a  crimson 
cushion,  in  order  to  make  it  suitable  for  such  a  mag- 
nificent looking  personage. 

But  Sir  William  Phipps  bad  not  always  worn  a 
gold-embroidered  coat,  nor  always  sat  so  much  at  hie 
ease  as  he  did  in  Grandfather's  chair.  He  was  a  poor 
man's  son,  and  was  born  in  the  Province  of  Maine, 
where  he  used  to  tend  sheep  upon  the  hills  in  his 
boyhood  and  youth.  Until  he  had  grown  to  be  a 
man,  he  did  not  even  know  how  to  read  and  write. 
Tired  of  tending  sheep,  he  next  apprenticed  himself 
to  a  ship  carpenter,  and  spent  about  four  years  in 
hewing  the  crooked  limbs  of  oak  trees  into  knees  for 
vessels. 

In  1673,  when  he  was  twenty-two  years  old,  he 
came  to  Boston,  and  soon  afterwards  was  married  to 
a  widow  lady,  who  had  property  enough  to  set  him 
up  in  business.  It  was  not  long,  however,  before  he 
lost  all  the  money  that  he  had  acquired  by  his  mar- 
riage and  became  a  poor  man  again.  Still  he  was 
not  discouraged.  He  often  told  his  wife  that,  some 
time  or  other,  he  should  be  very  rich,  and  would 
build  a  "  fair  brick  house  "  in  the  Green  Lane  of 
Boston. 

Do  not  suppose,  children,  that  he  had  been  to  a 
fortune  teller  to  inquire  his  destiny.  It  was  his  own 
energy  and  spiiit  of  enterprise,  and  his  resolution  to 


76  GRANDFATHER' 8    CHAIR. 

lead  an  industrious  life,  that  made  him  look  forward 
with  so  much  confidence  to  better  days. 

Several  years  passed  away,  and  William  Phippa 
had  not  yet  gained  the  riches  which  he  promised  to 
himself.  During  this  time  he  had  begun  to  follow  the, 
sea  for  a  living.  In  the  year  168-1  he  happened  to 
hear  of  a  Spanish  ship  which  had  been  cast  a^vay 
near  the  Bahama  Islands,  and  which  was  supposed  to 
contain  a  great  deal  of  gold  and  silver.  Phipps 
went  to  the  place  in  a  small  vessel,  hoping  that  he 
should  be  able  to  recover  some  of  the  treasure  from 
the  wreck.  He  did  not  succeed,  however,  in  fishing 
up  gold  and  silver  enough  to  pay  the  expenses  of  his 
voyage. 

But,  before  he  returned,  he  was  told  of  another 
Spanish  ship,  or  galleon,  which  had  been  cast  away 
near  Porto  de  la  Plata.  She  had  now  lain  as  much 
as  fifty  years  beneath  the  waves.  This  old  ship  had 
been  ladened  with  immense  wealth ;  and,  hitherto, 
nobody  had  thought  of  the  possibility  of  recovering 
any  part  of  it  from  the  deep  sea  which  was  rolling 
and  tossing  it  about.  But  though  it  was  now  an  old 
stoiy,  and  the  most  aged  people  had  almost  forgotten 
that  such  a  vessel  had  been  wrecked,  William  Phipps 
resolved  that  the  sunken  treasure  should  again  be 
brought  tc  light. 

He  went  to  London  and  obtained  admittance  to 
King  James,  who  had  not  yet  been  driven  from  hu 


grandfather'^  chair.  77 

throne.  He  told  tne  king  of  the  vast  wealth  that 
was  lying  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea.  King  James 
listened  with  attention,  and  thought  this  a  fine  op- 
portunity to  fill  his  treasury  with  Spanish  gold.  He 
appointed  William  Phipps  to  be  captain  of  a  vessel, 
called  the  Rose  Algier,  carrying  eighteen  guns  and 
ninety-five  men.  So  now  he  was  Captain  Phipps  of 
the  English  navy. 

Captain  Phipps  sailed  from  England  in  the  Rose 
Algier,  and  cruised  for  nearly  two  years  in  the  West 
Indies,  endeavoring  to  find  the  wreck  of  the  Spanish 
ship.  But  the  sea  is  so  wide  and  deep,  that  it  is  no 
easy  matter  to  discover  the  exact  spot  where  a  sunken 
vessel  lies.  The  prospect  of  success  seemed  very 
small ;  and  most  people  would  have  thought  that 
Captain  Phipps  was  as  far  from  having  money  enough 
to  build  a  "  fair  brick  house "  as  he  was  while  he 
tended  sheep. 

The  seamen  of  the  Rose  Algier  became  discouraged, 
and  gave  up  all  hope  of  making  their  fortunes  by 
discovering  the  Spanish  wreck.  They  wanted  to  com- 
pel Captain  Phipps  to  turn  pirate.  There  was  a  much 
better  prospect,  they  thought,  of  growing  rich  by 
plundering  vessels  which  still  sailed  in  the  sea  than 
by  seeking  for  a  ship  that  had  lain  beneath  the  wa\es 
lull  half  a  century.  They  broke  out  in  open  mutiny  \ 
but  were  finally  mastered  by  Phipps,  and  compelled 
10  cboy  his  orders.     It  would  have  been  dangerous, 


78 


GRANDFATHER'S    CHAIR. 


however,  to  continue  much  longer  at  sea  with  such  a 
crew  of  mutinous  sailors ;  and,  besides,  the  Rose 
Algier  was  leaky  and  unseaworthy.  So  Captain 
Fhip]  s  judged  it  best  to  return  to  England. 

Before  leaving  the  West  Indies,  he  met  with  a 
Spaniard,  an  old  man,  who  remembered  the  wreck  cf 
the  Spanish  ship,  and  gave  him  directions  how  to  find 
the  very  spot.  It  was  on  a  reef  of  rocks,  a  few 
leagues  from  Porto  de  la  Plata. 

On  his  arrival  in  England,  therefore,  Captain  Phipps 
solicited  the  king  to  let  him  have  another  vessel  and 
Bend  him  back  again  to  the  West  Indies.  But  King 
James,  avIio  had  probably  expected  thai  the  Pose 
Algier  would  return  laden  Avith  gold,  refused  to  have 
any  thing  more  to  do  with  the  affair.  Phipps  might 
never  have  been  able  to  renew  the  search  if  the 
Duke  of  Albemarle  and  some  other  noblemen  had 
not  lent  their  assistance.  They  fitted  out  a  ship,  and 
gave  the  command  to  Captain  Phipps.  He  sailed 
from  England,  and  arrived  safely  at  Porto  de  la  Plata, 
where  he  took  an  adze  and  assisted  his  men  to  build 
a  large  boat. 

The  boat  was  intended  for  the  purpose  of  going 
closer  to  the  reef  of  rocks  than  a  large  vessel  could 
safely  venture.  When  it  was  finished,  the  captain 
sent  several  men  in  it  to  examine  the  spot  where  the 
Spanish  ship  was  said  to  have  been  wrecked.  They 
were  accompanied  by  some  Indians,  who  were  skilfui 


GRANDFATHER  S    CHAIR.  79 

divers,   and    i-ould  go  down  a  great  way  into   the 
depths  of  the  sea. 

The  boat's  crew  proceeded  to  the  reef  of  rocks, 
and  rowed  round  and  round  it  a  great  many  times 
Thev  crazed  down  into  the  water,  which  was  so  trans- 
parent  that  it  seemed  as  if  they  could  have  seen  the 
gold  and  silver  at  the  bottom,  had  there  been  any  of 
those  precious  metals  there.  Nothing,  however, 
could  they  see  ;  nothing  more  valuable  than  a  curious 
sea  shrub,  which  was  growing  beneath  the  water,  in  a 
crevice  of  the  reef  of  rocks.  It  flaunted  to  and  fro 
with  the  swell  and  reflux  of  the  waves,  and  looked 
as  bright  and  beautiful  as  if  its  leaves  were  gold. 

"  We  won't  go  back  empty  handed,"  cried  an  Eng- 
lish sailor ;  and  then  he  spoke  to  one  of  the  Indian 
divers.  "  Dive  down  and  bring  me  that  pretty  sea 
shrub  there.     That's  the  only  treasure  we  shall  find." 

Down  plunged  the  diver,  and  soon  rose  chipping 
from  the  water,  holding  the  sea  shrub  in  his  hand 
But  he  had  learned  some  news  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 

"  There  are  some  ship's  guns,"  said  he,  the  mo- 
ment he  had  drawn  breath,  "  some  great  cannon, 
among  the  rocks,  near  where  the  shrub  was  growing." 

No  sooner  had  he  spoken  than  the  English  safors 
knew  that  they  had  found  the  very  spot  where  the 
Spanish  galleon  had  been  wrecked  so  many  years  be 
(ore.  The  other  Indian  divers  immediately  plunged 
over  the  boat's  side  and  swam  headlong  down,  grop- 


HO  grandfather's  chair. 

ing  among  the  rocks  and  sunken  cannon.  In  a  few 
moments  one  of  them  rose  above  the  water  with  a 
heavy  lump  of  silver  in  his  arms.  The  single  lump 
was  worth  more  than  a  thousand  dollars.  The  sailors 
took  it  into  the  boat,  and  then  rowed  back  as  speedily 
as  they  could,  being  in  haste  to  inform  Captain  Phipps 
of  their  good  luck. 

But,  confidently  as  the  captain  had  hoped  to  find 
the  Spanish  wreck,  yet,  now  that  it  was  really  found, 
the  news  seemed  too  good  to  be  true.  He  could  not 
believe  it  till  the  sailors  showed  him  the  lump  of 
silver. 

"  Thanks  be  to  God  !  "  then  cries  Captain  Phipps. 
"  We  shall  every  man  of  us  make  our  fortunes  !  " 

Hereupon  the  captain  and  all  the  crew  set  to  work, 
with  iron  rakes  and  great  hooks  and  lines,  fishing  for 
gold  and  silver  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea.  Up  came 
the  treasure  in  abundance.  Now  they  beheld  a  table 
of  solid  silver,  once  the  property  of  an  old  Spanish 
grandee.  Now  they  found  a  sacramental  vessel, 
which  had  been  destined  as  a  gift  to  some  Catholic 
church.  Now  they  drew  up  a  golden  cup,  lit  for  the 
rving  of  Spain  to  drink  his  wine  out  of.  Perhaps 
the  bony  hand  of  its  former  owner  had  been  grasping 
the  precious  cup,  and  was  drawn  up  along  with  it. 
Now  their  rakes  or  fishing  lines  were  loaded  with 
masses  of  silver  bullion.  There  were  also  precious 
stones  among  the  treasure,  glittering  and  sparkling 


grandfather's  chair.  SI 

so  that  it  is  a  wonder  how  their  radiance  could  have 
been  concealed. 

There  is  something  sad  and  terrible  in  the  idea  of 
snatching  all  this  wealth  from  the  devouring  ocean, 
which  had  possessed  it  for  such  a  length  of  years. 
It  seems  as  if  men  had  no  right  to  make  themselves 
rich  with  it.  It  ought  to  have  been  left  with  the 
skeletons  of  the  ancient  Spaniards,  who  had  been 
drowned  when  the  ship  was  wrecked,  and  whose 
bones  were  now  scattered  among  the  gold  and  silver. 

But  Captain  Phipps  and  his  crew  were  troubled 
with  no  such  thoughts  as  these.  After  a  day  or  two 
they  lighted  on  another  part  of  the  wreck,  where 
they  found  a  great  many  bags  of  silver  dollars.  But 
nobody  could  have  guessed  that  these  were  money 
bags.  By  remaining  so  long  in  the  salt  water,  they 
had  become  covered  over  with  a  crust  which  had  the 
appearance  of  stone,  so  that  it  was  necessaiy  to  break 
them  in  pieces  with  hammers  and  a£es.  When  this 
\  as  done,  a  stream  of  silver  dollars  gushed  out  upon 
the  deck  of  the  vessel. 

The  whole  value  of  the  recovered  treasure,  plate, 
bullion,  precious  stones,  and  all,  was  estimated  at 
more  than  two  millions  of  dollars.  It  was  dangerous 
even  to  look  at  such  a  vast  amount  of  wealth.  A 
sea  captain,  who  had  assisted  Phipps  in  the  enterprise, 
utterly  lost  his  reason  at  the  sight  of  it.  He  died 
two  years  afterwards,  still  raving  about  the  treasures 


82  GRANDFATHER'S    CHAIR. 

tLat  lie  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea.  It  would  have 
been  better  for  this  man  if  he  had  left  the  skeletons 
of  the  shipwrecked  Spaniards  in  quiet  possession  of 
their  wealth. 

Captain  Phipps  and  his  men  continued  to  fish 
up  plate,  bullion,  and  dollars,  as  plentifully  as  ever, 
till  their  provisions  grew  short.  Then,  as  they  could 
not  feed  upon  gold  and  silver  any  more  than  old 
King  Midas  could,  they  found  it  necessary  to  go  in 
search  of  better  sustenance.  Phipps  resolved  to  re- 
turn to  England.  He  arrived  there  in  1687,  and 
was  received  with  great  joy  by  the  Duke  of  Albe- 
marle and  other  English  lords  who  had  fitted  out 
the  vessel.  Well  they  might  rejoice ;  for  they  took 
by  far  the  greater  part  of  the  treasure  to  themselves. 

The  captain's  share,  however,  was  enough  to  make 
him  comfortable  for  the  rest  of  his  days.  It  also  en- 
abled him  to  fulfil  his  promise  to  his  wife,  by  build- 
ing a  "  fair  brick  house  "  in  the  Green  Lane  of  Boston. 
The  Duke  of  Albemarle  sent  Mrs.  Phipps  a  magnifi- 
cent gold  cup,  worth  at  least  five  thousand  dollars. 
Before  Captain  Phipps  left  London,  King  James 
made  him  a  knight ;  so  that,  instead  of  the  ob.scure 
ship  carpenter  who  had  formerly  dwelt  among  them, 
the  inhabitants  of  Boston  welcomed  him  on  his  re 
turn  as  the  rich  and  famous  Sir  William  Phipp*- 


CHAPTER   XI. 

"  Sir  William  Phipps,"  continued  Grandfather, 
"  was  too  active  and  adventurous  a  man  to  sit  still 
in  the  quiet  enjoyment  of  his  good  fortune.  In  the 
year  1690  he  went  on  a  military  expedition  against 
the  French  colonies  in  America,  conquered  the  whole 
province  of  Acadia,  and  returned  to  Boston  with  a 
great  deal  of  plunder." 

"  Why,  Grandfather,  he  was  the  greatest  man  that 
ever  sat  in  the  chair  !  "  cried  Charley. 

"  Ask  Laurence  what  he  thinks,"  replied  Grand- 
father, with  a  smile.  "  Well,  in  the  same  year,  Sir 
William  took  command  of  an  expedition  against  Que- 
bec, but  did  not  succeed  in  capturing  the  city.  In 
1692,  being  then  in  London,  King  William  III.  ap- 
pointed him  governor  of  Massachusetts.  And  now, 
my  dear  children,  having  followed  Sir  William 
Phipps  through  all  his  adventures  and  hardships  till 
we  find  him  comfortably  seated  in  Grandfather's  chair, 
we  will  here  bid  him  farewell.  May  he  be  as  happy 
in  ruling  a  people  as  he  was  while  he  tended  sheep ' 

(83) 


84  grandfather's  chair. 

Charley,  whose  fancy  had  been  greatly  take  a  by 
the  adventurous  disposition  of  Sir  William  Phipps, 
was  eager  to  know  how  he  had  acted  and  what  hap- 
pened to  him  while  he  held  the  office  of  governor. 
But  Grandfather  had  made  up  his  mind  to  tell  no 
more  stories  for  the  present. 

"  Possibly,  one  of  these  days,  I  may  go  on  with 
the  adventures  of  the  chair,"  said  he.  "  But  its  his 
tory  becomes  very  obscure  just  at  this  point ;  and  1 
must  search  into  some  old  books  and  manuscripts  be- 
fore proceeding  farther.  Besides,  it  is  now  a  good 
time  to  pause  in  our  narrative ;  because  the  new 
charter,  which  Sir  William  Phipps  brought  over  from 
England,  formed  a  very  important  epoch  in  the  history 
of  the  province." 

"  Really,  Grandfather,"  observed  Laurence,  "  this 
seems  to  be  the  most  remarkable  chair  in  the  world. 
Its  history  cannot  be  told  without  intertwining  it 
with  the  lives  of  distinguished  men  and  the  great 
events  that  have  befallen  the  country." 

"True,  Laurence,"  replied  Grandfather,  smiling; 
"  we  must  write  a  book  with  some  such  title  as  this 
-  —  Memoir?  of  my  own  Times,  by  Grandfather's 
Chair." 

"  That  would  be  beautiful !  "  exclaimed  Laurence 
clapping  his  hands. 

"  But,  after  all,"  continued  Grandfather,  "  any 
other   old  chair,  if  it  possessed  memory  and  a  hand 


grandfather's  chair.  S5 

to  write  its  recollections,  could  record  stranger  stories 
than  any  that  I  have  told  you.  From  generation  to 
generation,  a  chair  sits  familiarly  in  the  midst  of  hu- 
man interests,  and  is  witness  to  the  most  secret  and 
confidential  intercourse  that  mortal  man  can  hold 
with  his  fellow.  The  human  heart  may  best  be  read 
in  the  fireside  chair.  And  as  to  external  events, 
Grief  and  Joy  keep  a  continual  vicissitude  around  it 
and  within  it.  Now  we  see  the  glad  face  and  glow- 
ing form  of  Joy,  sitting  merrily  in  the  old  chair,  and 
throwing  a  warm  firelight  radiance  over  all  the  house- 
hold. Now,  while  we  thought  not  of  it,  the  dark- 
clad  mourner,  Grief,  has  stolen  into  the  place  of  Joy, 
but  not  to  retain  it  long.  The  imagination  can  hardly 
grasp  so  wide  a  subject  as  is  embraced  in  the  experi- 
ence of  a  family  chair." 

"  It  makes  my  breath  flutter,  my  heart  thrill,  to 
think  of  it,"  said  Laurence.  "  Yes,  a  family  chair 
must  have  a  deeper  history  than  a  chair  of  state." 

"  O,  yes  !  "  cried  Clara,  expressing  a  woman's  feel- 
ing on  the  point  in  question ;  '  the  history  of  a  country 
is  not  nearly  so  interesting  as  that  of  a  single  family 
would  be." 

"  But  the  history  of  a  country  is  more  easily  told," 
said  Grandfather.  "  So,  if  we  proceed  with  our  nar- 
rative of  the  chair,  I  shall  still  confine  myself  to  its 
connection  with  public  events." 

Good  clu   Grandfather  now  rose  and  quitted  the 


Hti  grandfather's  chair. 

room,  while  <he  children  remained  gazing  at  the  chair, 
Laurence,  so  vivid  was  his  conception  of  past  times, 
would  hardly  have  deemed  it  strange  if  its  former 
occupants,  one  after  another,  had  resumed  the  seat 
which  they  had  each  left  vacant  such  a  dim  length  of 
years  ago. 

First,  the  gentle  and  lovely  Lady  Arbella  would 
have  been  seen  in  the  old  chair,  almost  sinking  out 
of  its  arms  for  very  weakness  ;  then  Roger  Williams, 
in  his  cloak  and  band,  earnest,  energetic,  and  benevo- 
lent ;  then  the  figure  of  Anne  Hutchinson,  with  the 
like  gesture  as  when  she  presided  at  the  assemblages 
of  women ;  then  the  dark,  intellectual  face  of  Vane, 
"young  in  years,  but  in  sage  counsel  old."  Next 
would  have  appeared  the  successive  governors,  Win- 
throp,  Dudley,  Bellingham,  and  Endicott,  who  sat 
in  the  chair  while  it  was  a  chair  of  state.  Then 
its  ample  seat  would  have  been  pressed  by  the  com- 
fortable, rotund  corporation  of  the  honest  mint- 
master.  Then  the  half-frenzied  shape  of  Mary  Dyer, 
the  persecuted  Quaker  woman,  clad  in  sackcloth  and 
ashes,  would  have  rested  in  it  for  a  moment.  Then 
the  holy,  apostolic  form  of  Eliot  would  have  sanctified 
it.  Then  would  have  arisen,  like  the  shade  of  de- 
parted Puritanism,  the  venerable  dignity  of  the  whilp- 
bearded  Governor  Bradstreet.  Lastly,  en  the  gor- 
geous crimson  cushion  of  Grandfather's  chair,  would 
have  shone  the  purple  and  golden  magnificence  *f 
Sir   William   Ehipps. 


grandfather's    chair.  87 

.But  all  these,  with  the  other  historic  personages, 
in  the  midst  of  whom  the  chair  had  so  often  stood, 
had  passed,  both  in  substance  and  shadow,  from  the 
scene  of  ages.  Yet  here  stood  the  chair,  with  the 
old  Lincoln  coat  of  arms,  and  the  oaken  flowers  and 
foliage,  and  the  fierce  lion's  head  at  the  summit,  the 
whole,  apparently,  in  as  perfect  preservation  as  when 
it  had  first  been  placed  in  the  Earl  of  Lincoln's  hall. 
And  what  vast  changes  of  society  and  of  nations  had 
been  wrought  by  sudden  convulsions  or  by  slow  de- 
grees since  that  era  ! 

"  This  chair  had  stood  firm  when  the  thrones  ot 
kings  were  overturned  !  "  thought  Laurence.  "  Its 
oaken  frame  has  proved  stronger  than  many  frames 
of  government !  " 

More  the  thoughtful  and  imaginative  boy  might 
have  mused  ;  but  now  a  large  yellow  cat,  a  great 
favorite  with  all  the  children,  leaped  in  at  the  open 
window.  Perceiving  that  Grandfather's  chair  was 
empty,  and  having  often  before  experienced  its  com- 
forts, puss  laid  herself  quietly  down  upon  the  cushion 
Laurence,  Clara,  Charley,  and  little  Alice  all  laughed 
at  the  idea  of  such  a  successor  to  the  worthies  of  old 
times. 

"  Pussy,"  said  little  Alice,  putting  out  her  hand, 
into  which  the  cat  laid  a  velvet  paw,  "  you  look  very 
wise.  Do  tell  us  a  story  about  Grandfather's 
Chair!" 


GRANDFATHER'S    CHAIR 


PART    II. 

CHAPTER   I 


"  O  Grandfather,  dear  Grandfather/'  cried  little 
Alice,  "  pray  tell  us  some  more  stories  about  yo-u 
chair  !  " 

How  long  a  time  had  fled  since  the  children  had 
felt  any  curiosity  to  hear  the  sequel  of  this  venerable 
chair's  adventures  !  Summer  was  now  past  and  gone, 
and  the  better  part  of  autumn  likewise.  Dreary, 
chill  November  was  howling  out  of  doors,  and  vex- 
ing the  atmosphere  Avith  sudden  showers  of  wintry 
rain,  or  sometimes  with  gusts  of  snow,  that  rattled 
like  small  pebbles  against  the  windows. 

When  the  weather  began  to  grow  cool,  Grand- 
father's chair  had  been  removed  from  the  summer 
parlor  into  a  smaller  and  snugger  room.     It  now 


grandfather's  chair.  8^ 

s-ood  by  the  side  of  a  bright,  blazing,  wood  fire. 
Grandfather  loved  a  wood,  fire  far  better  than  a  grate 
of  glowing  anthracite,  or  than  the  dull  heat  of  an 
invisible  furnace,  which  seems  to  think  that  it  has 
done  its  duty  in  merely  warming  the  house.  But 
the  wood  fire  is  a  kindly,  cheerful,  sociable  spirit, 
sympathizing  with  mankind,  and  knowing  that  to 
create  warmth  is  but  one  of  the  good  offices  which  are 
expected  from  it.  Therefore  it  dances  on  the  hearth, 
and  laughs  broadly  through  the  room,  and  plays  a 
thousand  antics,  and  throws  a  joyous  glow  over  all 
the  faces  that  encircle  it. 

In  the  twilight  of  the  evening  the  fire  grew 
brighter  and  more  cheerful.  And  thus  perhaps, 
there  was  something  in  Grandfather's  heart  that 
cheered  him  most  with  its  warmth  and  comfort  in  the 
gathering  twilight  of  old  age.  He  had  been  gazing 
at  the  red  embers  as  intently  as  if  his  past  life  were 
all  pictured  there,  or  as  if  it  were  a  prospect  of  the 
future  world,  when  little  Alice's  voice  aroused  him. 

"  Dear  Grandfather,"  repeated  the  little  girl,  more 
earnestly,  "  do  talk  to  us  again  about  your  chair." 

Laurence,  and  Clara,  and  Charley,  and  little  Alice 
had  been  attracted  to  other  objects  for  two  or  three 
months  past.  They  had  sported  in  the  gladsome 
sunshine  of  the  present,  and  so  had  forgotten  the 
shadowy  region  of  the  past,  in  the  midst  of  which 
stood  Grandfather's  chair.  But  now,  in  the  autum- 
nal twilight,  illuminated  by  the  flickering  blaze  of 


90 


GRANDFATHER  S    CHAIR. 


the  wood  fire,  they  looked  at  the  old  chair,  and 
chought  that  it  had  never  before  worn  such  an  inter- 
esting aspect.  There  it  stood  in  the  venerable  ma- 
jesty of  more  than  two  hundred  years.  The  light 
from  the  hearth  quivered  upon  the  flowers  and  foliage 
that  were  wrought  into  its  oaken  back  ;  and  the  lion's 
head  at  the  summit  seemed  almost  to  move  its  jaws 
and  shake  its  mane. 

'•'  Does  little  Alice  speak  for  all  of  you  ?  "  asked 
Grandfather.  "  Do  you  wish  me  to  go  on  with  the 
adventures   of   the  chair  ?  " 

"  O,  yes,  yes,  Grandfather  !  "  cried  Clara.  "  The 
dear  old  chair !  How  strange  that  we  should  have 
forgotten  it  so  long  !  " 

"  0,  pray  begin,  Grandfather,"  said  Laurence ; 
"  for  I  think,  when  we  talk  about  old  times,  it  should 
be  in  the  early  evening,  before  the  candles  are  lighted. 
The  shapes  of  the  famous  persons  who  once  sat  in 
the  chair  will  be  more  apt  to  come  back,  and  be  seen 
among  us,  in  this  glimmer  and  pleasant  gloom,  than 
they  Avould  in  the  vulgar  daylight.  And,  besides, 
we  can  make  pictures  of  all  that  you  tell  us  among 
the  glowing  embers  and  white  ashes." 

Our  friend  Charley,  too,  thought  the  evening  the 
best  time  to  hear  Grandfather's  stories,  because  he 
could  not  then  be  playing  out  of  doors.  So,  finding 
his  young  auditors  unanimous  in  their  petition,  the 
good  old  gentleman  took  up  the  narrative  of  the  his- 
toric chair  at  the  point  where  he  had  dropped  it 


CHAPTER  II. 

"  You  recollect,  my  dear  children,"  said  Grand* 
father,  "  that  we  took  leave  of  the  chair  in  1692, 
while  it  was  occupied  by  Sir  William  Pliipps.  Thia 
fortunate  treasure  seeker,  you  will  remember,  had 
come  over  from  England,  with  King  William's  com- 
mission, to  be  governor  of  Massachusetts.  Within 
the  limits  of  this  province  were  now  included  the  old 
colony  of  Plymouth  and  the  territories  of  Maine  and 
Nova  Scotia.  Sir  William  Phipps  had  likewise 
brought  a  new  charter  from  the  king,  which  served 
instead  of  a  constitution,  and  set  forth  the  method  in 
which  the  province  was  to  be  governed." 

"  Did  the  new  charter  allow  the  people  all  their 
former  liberties  ?  "  inquired  Laurence. 

"  No,"  replied  Grandfather.  "  Under  the  first 
charter,  the  people  had  been  the  source  of  all  power. 
Winthrop,  Endicott,  Bradstreet,  and  the  rest  of 
them  had  been  governors  by  the  choice  of  the  peo- 
ple, without  any  interference  of  the  king.  But  herr^e- 
forth  the  governor  was  to  hold  his  station  solely  bj 


»*  GRANDFATHER  S    CHAIR. 

the  king's  appointment  and  during  his  pleasure  , 
and  the  same  was  the  case  with  the  lieutenant  gov- 
ernor and  some  other  high  officers.  The  people, 
however,  were  still  allowed  to  choose  representatives ; 
and  the  governor's  council  was  chosen  by  the  general 
court." 

"  Would  the  inhabitants  have  elected  Sir  William 
Phipps,"  asked  Laurence,  "  if  the  choice  of  gov- 
ernor had  been  left  to  them  ?  " 

"  He  might  probably  have  been  a  successful  candi- 
date," answered  Grandfather ;  "  for  his  adventures 
and  military  enterprises  had  gained  him  a  sort  of  re- 
nown, which  always  goes  a  great  way  with  the  peo- 
ple. And  he  had  many  popular  characteristics,  being 
a  kind,  warmhearted  man,  not  ashamed  of  his  low 
origin,  nor  haughty  in  his  present  elevation.  Soon 
after  his  arrival,  he  proved  that  he  did  not  blush  to 
recognize  his  former  associates." 

"  How  was  that  ?  "  inquired  Charley. 

"  He  made  a  grand  festival  at  his  new  brick  house," 
said  Grandfather,  "  and  invited  all  the  ship  carpenters 
of  Boston  to  be  his  guests.  At  the  head  of  the  table, 
in  our  great  chair,  sat  Sir  William  Phipps  himself, 
treating  these  hardhanded  men  as  his  brethren,  crack- 
ing jokes  with  them  and  talking  familiarly  about  old 
times.  I  know  not  whether  he  wore  his  embroidered 
dress  ;  but  I  rather  choose  to  imagine  that  he  had  on 
a  suit  of  rough  clothes,  such  as  he  used  to  labor  in 
while  he  was  Phipps  the  ship  carpenter  " 


grandfather's  chair.  93 

"  An  aristocrat  need  not  be  ashamed  of  the  trade,'' 
observed  Laurence ;  "  for  the  Czar  Peter  the  Great 
once  served  an  apprenticeship  to  it." 

"  Did  Sir  William  Phipps  make  as  good  a  governor 
is  he  was  a  ship  carpenter  ? "  asked  Charley. 

"  History  says  but  little  about  his  merits  as  a  ship 
carpenter,"  answered  Grandfather ;  "  but,  as  a  gov- 
ernor, a  great  deal  of  fault  was  found  with  him. 
Almost  as  soon  as  he  assumed  the  government,  he 
became  engaged  in  a  very  frightful  business,  which 
might  have  perplexed  a  wiser  and  better  cultivated 
head  than  his.      This  was  the  witchcraft  delusion." 

And  here  Grandfather  gave  his  auditors  such  de- 
tails of  this  melancholy  affair  as  he  thought  it  fit  for 
them  to  know.  They  shuddered  to  hear  that  a  frenzy, 
which  led  to  the  death  of  many  innocent  persons, 
had  originated  in  the  wicked  arts  of  a  few  children. 
They  belonged  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Parris,  minister  of 
Salem.  These  children  complained  of  being  pinched 
and  pricked  with  pins,  and  otherwise  tormented  by 
the  shapes  of  men  and  women,  who  were  supposed 
to  have  power  to  haunt  them  invisibly,  both  in  dark- 
ness and  daylight.  Often  in  the  midst  of  their  family 
und  friends  the  children  would  pretend  to  be  seized 
with  strange  convulsions,  and  would  cry  out  that  the 
witches  were  afflicting  them. 

These  stories  spread  abroad,  and  caused  great  tu- 
mult and  alarm.     From  the  foundation  of  New  Eng- 


84  GRANDFATHER  8    CHAIR. 

land,  it  had  been  the  custom  of  the  inhabitants,  in 
all  matters  of  doubt  and  difficulty,  to  look  to  their 
ministers  for  counsel.  So  they  did  now ;  but,  un- 
fortunately, the  ministers  and  wise  men  were  more 
deluded  than  the  illiterate  people.  Cotton  Mather, 
a  very  learned  and  eminent  clergyman,  believed  that 
the  whole  country  was  full  of  witches  and  wizards, 
who  had  given  up  their  hopes  of  heaven,  and  signed 
a  covenant  with  the  evil  one. 

Nobody  could  be  certain  that  his  nearest  neighbor 
or  most  intimate  friend  was  not  guilty  of  this  imagi- 
nary crime.  The  number  of  those  who  pretended  to 
be  afflicted  by  witchcraft  grew  daily  more  numerous ; 
and  they  bore  testimony  against  many  of  the  best 
and  worthiest  people.  A  minister,  named  George 
Burroughs,  was  among  the  accused.  In  the  months 
of  August  and  September,  1692,  he  and  nineteen 
other  innocent  men  and  women  were  put  to  death. 
The  place  of  execution  was  a  high  hill,  on  the  out- 
skirts of  Salem ;  so  that  many  of  the  sufferers,  as 
they  stood  beneath  the  gallows,  could  discern  their 
own  habitations  in  the  town. 

The  martyrdom  of  these  guiltless  persons  seemod 
only  to  increase  the  madness.  The  afflicted  now  grew 
bolder  in  their  accusations.  Many  people  of  rank 
and  wealth  were  either  thrown  inro  prison  or  com- 
pelled to  flee  for  their  lives.  Among  these  were  two 
jons  of  old  Simon  Bradstreet,  the  last  of  the  Puritan 


GRANDFATHER  S    CHAIR.  9n 

go-veraois.  Mr.  Willard,  a  pious  minister  of  Bos- 
ton, was  cried  out  upon  as  a  wizard  in  open  court. 
Mrs.  Hale,  the  wife  of  the  minister  of  Beverly, 
was  likewise  accused.  Philip  English,  a  rich  mer- 
chant of  Salem,  found  it  necessary  to  take  flight, 
leaving  his  property  and  business  in  confusion.  But 
a  short  time  afterwards,  the  Salem  people  were  glad 
to  invite  him  back. 

"  The  boldest  thing  that  the  accusers  did,"  con 
tinued  Grandfather,  "  was  to  cry  out  against  the  go  v- 
ernor's  own  beloved  wife.  Yes,  the  lady  of  Six 
William  Phipps  was  accused  of  being  a  witch  and 
of  flying  through  the  air  to  attend  witch  meetings. 
When  the  governor  heard  this  he  probably  trembled, 
so  that  our  great  chair  shook  beneath  him." 

"  Dear  Grandfather,"  cried  little  Alice,  clinging 
closer  to  his  knee,  "  is  it  true  that  witches  ever  come 
in  the  nighttime  to  frighten  little  children  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  dear  little  Alice,"  replied  Grandfather. 
"  Even  if  there  were  any  witches,  they  would  flee 
away  from  the  presence  of  a  purehearted  child. 
But  there  are  none ;  and  our  forefathers  soon  became 
convinced  that  they  had  been  led  into  a  terrible  de- 
lusion. All  the  prisoners  on  account  of  witchcraft 
were  set  free.  But  the  innocent  dead  could  not  be 
restored  to  life ;  and  the  hill  where  they  were  ex- 
ecuted will  always  remind  people  of  the  saddest  and 
most  humiliating  passage  in  our  history  " 


%  grandfather's  chair. 

Grandfather  then  said  that  the  next  remarkable 
event,  while  Sir  William  Phipps  remained  in  the 
chair,  was  the  arrival  at  Boston  of  an  English  fleet 
in  1693.  It  brought  an  army  which  was  intended 
for  the  conquest  of  Canada.  But  a  malignant  dis- 
ease, more  fatal  than  the  small  pox,  broke  out  among 
the  soldiers  and  sailors,  and  destroyed  the  greater 
part  of  them.  The  infection  spread  into  the  town  of 
Boston,  and  made  much  havoc  there.  This  dreadful 
sickness  caused  the  governor,  and  Sir  Francis  "Wheeler, 
who  was  commander  of  the  British  forces,  to  give  up 
ill  thoughts  of  attacking  Canada. 

"  Soon  after  this,"  said  Grandfather,  "  Sir  William 
Phipps  quarrelled  with  the  captain  of  an  English 
frigate,  and  also  with  the  collector  of  Boston.  Be- 
ing a  man  of  violent  temper,  he  gave  each  of  them 
a  sound  beating  with  his  cane." 

"  He  was  a  bold  fellow,"  observed  Charley,  who 
was  himself  somewhat  addicted  to  a  similar  mode  of 
settling  disputes. 

"  More  bold  than  wise,"  replied  Grandfather  • 
"  for  complaints  were  carried  to  the  king,  and  Sir 
William  Phipps  was  summoned  to  England  to  make 
ihe  best  answer  he  could.  Accordingly  he  went  to 
London,  where,  in  1695,  he  was  seized  with  a  malig- 
nant fever,  of  which  he  died.  Had  he  lived  longer 
he  would  probably  have  gone  again  in  search  of 
sunken  treasure.     He  had  heard  of  a  Spanish  ship, 


grandfather's  chair.  97 

which  was  cast  away  in  1502,  during  the  lifetime  of 
Columbus.  Bovadilla,  Boldan,  and  many  other  Span- 
iards were  lost  in  her,  together  with  the  immense 
wealth  of  which  they  had  robbed  the  South  American 
kings." 

"  Why,  Grandfather ! "  exclaimed  Laurence,  "  what 
magnificent  ideas  the  governor  had !  Only  think  of 
recovering  all  that  old  treasure  which  had  lain  almost 
two  centuries  under  the  sea !  Methinks  Sir  William 
Phipps  ought  to  have  been  buried  in  the  ocean  when 
he  died,  so  that  he  might  have  gone  down  among 
the  sunken  ships  and  cargoes  of  treasure  which  he 
was  always  dreaming  about  in  his  lifetime." 

"  He  was  buried  in  one  of  the  crowded  cemeteries 
of  London,"  said  Grandfather.  "  As  he  left  no  chil- 
dren, his  estate  was  inherited  by  his  nephew,  from 
whom  is  descended  the  present  marquis  of  Nor- 
manby.  The  noble  marquis  is  not  aware,  perhaps, 
that  the  prosperity  of  his  family  originated  in  the 
buccessful  enterprise  of  a  New  England  ship  car- 
penter." 


CHAPTER  III. 

"  At  the  death  of  Sir  William  Phipps,"  proceeded 
Grandfather,  "  our  chair  was  bequeathed  to  Mr. 
Ezekiel  Cheever,  a  famous  schoolmaster  in  Boston. 
This  old  gentleman  came  from  London  in  1637,  and 
had  been  teaching  school  ever  since  ;  so  that  there 
were  now  aged  men,  grandfathers  like  myself,  to 
whom  Master  Cheever>  had  taught  their  alphabet. 
He  was  a  person  of  venerable  aspect,  and  wore  a 
long,  white  beard." 

"  Was  the  chair  placed  in  his  school  ?  "  asked 
Charley. 

"  Yes,  in  his  school,"  answered  Grandfather ; 
"  and  we  may  safely  say  that  it  had  never  before  been 
regarded  with  such  awful  reverence  —  no,  not  even 
when  the  old  governors  of  Massachusetts  sat  in  it. 
Even  you,  Charley,  my  boy,  would  have  felt  some 
respect  for  the  chair  if  you  had  seen  it  occupied  by 
this  famous  schoolmaster." 

And  here  Grandfather  endeavored  to  give  his  au- 
ditors an  idea  how  matters  were  managed  in  schools 

(&) 


GRANDFATHER'S    CHAIR.  99 

above  a  hundred  years  ago.  As  this  will  probably 
be  an  interesting  subject  to  our  readers,  we  shall 
make  a  separate  sketch  of  it,  and  call  it 

THE   OLD-FASHIONED   SCHOOL. 

Now,  imagine  yourselves,  my  children,  in  Master 
Ezekiel  Oheever's  school  room.  It  is  a  large,  dingy 
room,  with  a  sanded  floor,  and  is  lighted  by  windows 
that  turn  on  hinges  and  have  little  diamond-shaped 
panes  of  glass.  The  scholars  sit  on  long  benches, 
with  desks  before  them.  At  one  end  of  the  room  is 
a  great  fireplace,  so  very  spacious  that  there  is  room 
enough  for  three  or  four  boys  to  stand  in  each  of  the 
chimney  corners.  This  was  the  good  old  fashion  of 
fireplaces  when  there  was  wood  enough  in  the  forests 
to  keep  people  warm  without  their  digging  into  the 
bowels  of  the  earth  for  coal. 

It  is  a  winter's  day  when  we  take  our  peep  into 
the  school  room.  See  what  great  logs  of  wood  have 
been  rolled  into  the  fireplace,  and  what  a  broad,  bright 
blaze  goes  leaping  up  the  chimney !  And  every  few 
moments  a  vast  cloud  of  smoke  is  puffed  into  the 
room,  which  sails  slowly  over  the  heads  of  the 
scholars,  until  it  gradually  settles  upon  the  walls  and 
ceiling.  They  are  blackened  with  the  smoke  of 
many  years  already. 

Next  look  at  our  old  historic  chair!     It  is  placed 


100  grandfather's  chair. 

you  perceive,  in  the  most  comfortable  part  of  the 
room,  where  the  generous  glow  of  the  fire  is  suffi- 
ciently felt  without  being  too  intensely  hot.  How 
stately  the  old  chair  looks,  as  if  it  remembered  its 
many  famous  occupants,  but  yet  were  conscious  that 
a  greater  man  is  sitting  in  it  now !  Do  you  see  the 
venerable  schoolmaster,  severe  in  aspect,  with  a  black 
skullcap  on  his  head,  like  an  ancient  Puritan,  and  the 
6now  of  his  white  beard  drifting  down  to  his  very 
girdle  ?  What  boy  would  dare  to  play,  or  whisper, 
or  even  glance  aside  from  his  book,  while  Master 
Cheever  is  on  the  lookout  behind  his  spectacles  ? 
For  such  offenders,  if  any  such  there  be,  a  rod  of 
birch  is  hanging  over  the  fireplace,  and  a  heavy  ferule 
lies  on  the  master's  desk. 

And  now  school  is  begun.  What  a  murmur  of 
multitudinous  tongues,  like  the  whispering  leaves  of 
a  wind-stirred  oak,  as  the  scholars  con  over  their  va- 
rious tasks  !  Buzz !  buzz  !  buzz  !  Amid  just  such  a 
murmur  has  Master  Cheever  spent  above  sixty  years  ; 
and  long  habit  has  made  it  as  pleasant  to  him  as  the 
hum  of  a  beehive  when  the  insects  are  busy  in  the 
sunshine. 

Now  a  class  in  Latin  is  called  to  recite.  Forth 
6teps  a  row  of  queer-looking  little  fellows,  wearing 
square-skirted  coats  and  smallclothes,  with  buttons  at 
the  knee.  They  look  like  so  many  grandfathers  in 
their  second  childhood.     These  lads  are  to  be  sent  to 


grandfather's  chair.  101 

Cambridge  and  educated  for  the  learned  professions. 
Old  Master  Cheever  has  lived  so  long,  and  seen  so 
many  generations  of  schoolboys  grow  up  to  be  men, 
that  now  he  can  almost  prophesy  what  sort  of  a  man 
each  boy  will  be.  One  urchin  shall  hereafter  be  a 
doctor,  and  administer  pills  and  potions,  and  stalk 
gravely  through  life,  perfumed  with  assafcetida. 
Another  shall  wrangle  at  the  bar,  and  fight  his  way 
to  wealth  and  honors,  and,  in  his  declining  age,  shall 
be  a  worshipful  member  of  his  majesty's  council.  A 
third  —  and  he  is  the  master's  favorite  —  shall  be  a 
worthy  successor  to  the  old  Puritan  ministers  now 
in  their  graves  ;  he  shall  preach  with  great  unction 
and  effect,  and  leave  volumes  of  sermons,  in  print 
and  manuscript,  for  the  benefit  of  future  generations. 

But,  as  they  are  merely  schoolboys  now,  their 
business  is  to  construe  Virgil.  Poor  Virgil !  whose 
verses,  which  he  took  so  much  pains  to  polish,  have 
been  misscanned,  and  misparsed,  and  misinterpreted 
by  so  many  generations  of  idle  schoolboys.  There, 
sit  down,  ye  Latinists.  Two  or  three  of  you,  I  fear, 
are  doomed  to  feel  the  master's  ferule. 

Next  comes  a  class  in  arithmetic.  These  boys 
are  to  be  the  merchants,  shopkeepers,  and  mechanics 
of  a  future  period.  Hitherto  they  have  traded  only 
in  marbles  and  apples.  Hereafter  some  trill  send 
vessels  to  England  for  broadcloths  and  all  sorts  of 
manufactured  wares,  and  to  the  West  Indies  for  sugar, 


102  grandfather's  chair. 

and  rum,  and  coffee.  Others  will  stand  behind 
counters,  and  measure  tape,  and  ribbon,  and  cambiic 
by  the  yard.  Others  will  upheave  the  blacksmith's 
hammer,  or  drive  the  plane  over  the  carpenter's 
bench,  or  take  the  lapstone  and  the  awl  and  lean? 
the  trade  of  shoemaking.  Many  will  follow  the  sea, 
and  become  bold,  rough  sea  captains. 

This  class  of  boys,  in  short,  must  supply  the  wurld 
with  those  active,  skilful  hands,  and  clear,  sagacious 
heads,  without  which  the  affairs  of  life  would  be 
thrown  into  confusion  by  the  theories  of  studious 
and  visionary  men.  Wherefore,  teach  them  their 
multiplication  table,  good  Master  Cheever,  and  whip 
them  well  when  they  deserve  it ;  for  much  of  the 
country's  welfare  depends  on  these  boys. 

But,  alas !  while  we  have  been  thinking  of  other 
matters,  Master  Cheever's  watchful  eye  has  caught  two 
boys  at  play.  Now  we  shall  see  awful  times.  The 
two  malefactors  are  summoned  before  the  master's 
chair,  wherein  he  sits  with  the  terror  of  a  judge 
upon  his  brow.  Our  old  chair  is  now  a  judgment 
seat.  Ah,  Master  Cheever  has  taken  down  that  ter- 
rible birch  rod  !  Short  is  the  trial  —  the  sentence 
quickly  passed  —  and  now  the  judge  prepares  to 
execute  it  in  person.  Thwack  !  thwack  !  thwack  ! 
In  these  good  old  times,  a  schoolmaster's  blows  were 
well  laid  on. 

See,  the  birch  rod  has  lost  several  of  its  twigs,  and 


grandfather's  chair.  103 

frill  hardly  serve  for  another  execution.  Mercy  on 
us,  what  a  bellowing  the  urchins  make  !  My  ears  are 
almost  deafened,  though  the  clamor  comes  through 
the  far  length  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  years.  There, 
sro  to  your  seats,  poor  boys  ;  and  do  not  cry,  sweet 
little  Alice,  for  they  have  ceased  to  feel  the  pain  a 
long  time  since. 

And  thus  the  forenoon  passes  away.  Now  it  ia 
twelve  o'clock.  The  master  looks  at  his  great  silver 
watch,  and  then,  with  tiresome  deliberation,  puts  the 
ferule  into  his  desk.  The  little  multitude  await  the 
word  of  dismissal  with  almost  irrepressible  impatience. 

"  You  are  dismissed,"  says  Master  Cheever. 

The  boys  retire,  treading  softly  until  they  have 
passed  the  threshold  ;  but,  fairly  out  of  the  school 
room,  lo,  what  a  joyous  shout !  what  a  scampering 
and  trampling  of  feet !  what  a  sense  of  recovered 
freedom  expressed  in  the  merry  uproar  of  all  their 
voices !  What  care  they  for  the  ferule  and  birch  rod 
now  ?  Were  boys  created  merely  to  study  Latin  and 
arithmetic  ?  No  ;  the  better  purposes  of  their  being 
are  to  sport,  to  leap,  to  run,  to  shout,  to  slide  upon 
the  ice,  to  snowball. 

Happy  boys !  Enjoy  your  playtime  now,  and 
come  again  to  study  and  to  feel  the  birch  rod  and  the 
ferule  to-morrow  ;  not  till  to-morrow,  for  to-day  is 
Thursday  lecture  ;  and,  ever  since  the  settlement  of 
Massachusetts,  there  has  been  no  school  on  Thursday 


104  GRANDFATHER  S    CHAIR. 

afternoons.  Therefore,  sport,  boys,  while  you  may  , 
for  the  morrow  cometh,  with  the  birch  rod  and  the 
ferule ;  and  after  that  another  morrow,  with  troubles 
of  its  own. 

Now  the  master  has  set  every  thing  to  rights,  and 
is  ready  to  go  home  to  dinner.  Yet  he  goes  reluc- 
tantly. The  old  man  has  spent  so  much  of  his  life 
in  the  smoky,  noisy,  buzzing  school  room,  that,  when 
he  has  a  holiday,  he  feels  as  if  his  place  were  lost 
and  himself  a  stranger  in  the  world.  But  forth  he 
goes ;  and  there  stands  our  old  chair,  vacant  and  sol- 
itary, till  good  Master  Cheever  resumes  his  seat  in  it 
to-morrow  morning. 

"  Grandfather,"  said  Charley,  "  I  wonder  whether 
the  boys  did  not  use  to  upset  the  old  chair  when  the 
schoolmaster  was  out." 

"  There  is  a  tradition,"  replied  Grandfather,  "  that 
one  of  its  arms  was  dislocated  in  some  such  manner. 
But  I  cannot  believe  that  any  schoolboy  would  be- 
have so  naughtily." 

As  it  was  now  later  than  little  Alice's  usual  bed- 
time, Grandfather  broke  off  his  narrative,  promising 
to  talk  more  about  Master  Cheever  *nd  his  scholars 
gome  other  evening. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

Accordingly,  the  next  evening,  Grandfather  re- 
sumed the  history  of  his  beloved  chair. 

"  Master  Ezekiel  Cheever,"  said  he,  "  died  in 
1707,  after  having  taught  school  about  seventy  years. 
It  would  require  a  pretty  good  scholar  in  aritlnnetic 
to  tell  how  many  stripes  he  had  inflicted,  and  how 
many  birch  rods  he  had  worn  out,  during  all  that 
time,  in  his  fatherly  tenderness  for  his  pupils. 
Almost  all  the  great  men  of  that  period,  and  for 
many  years  back,  had  been  whipped  into  eminence  by 
Master  Cheever.  Moreover,  he  had  written  a  Latin 
Accidence,  which  was  used  in  schools  more  than  half 
a  century  after  his  death ;  so  that  the  good  old  man, 
even  in  his  grave,  was  still  the  cause  of  trouble  and 
stripes  to  idle  schoolboys." 

Grandfather  proceeded  to  say,  that,  when  Master 
Cheever  died,  he  bequeathed  the  chair  to  the  most 
learned  man  that  was  educated  at  his  school,  or  that 
had    ever    been    born    in    America.     This    was  the 

(105) 


106  grandfather's  chair. 

renowned  Cotton  Mather,  minister  of  the  Old  North 
Church  in  Boston. 

"  And  author  of  the  Magnalia,  Grandfather,  which 
we  sometimes  see  you  reading,"  said  Laurence. 

"  Yes,  Laurence,"  replied  Grandfather.  "  The 
Magnalia  is  a  strange,  pedantic  history,  in  which 
true  events  and  real  personages  move  befoie  the 
reader  with  the  dreamy  aspect  which  they  wore 
in  Cotton  Mather's  singular  mind.  This  huge  vol- 
ume  however,  was  written  and  published  before  our 
chair  came  into  his  possession.  But,  as  he  was  the 
author  of  more  books  than  there  are  days  in  the 
year,  we  may  conclude  that  he  wrote  a  great  deal 
while  sitting  in  this  chair." 

"  I  am  tired  of  these  schoolmasters  and  learned 
men,"  said  Charley.  "  I  wish  some  stirring  man, 
that  knew  how  to  do  something  in  the  world,  like 
Sir  William  Phipps,  would  sit  in  the  chair." 

"  Such  men  seldom  have  leisure  to  sit  quietly  in 
a  chair,"  said  Grandfather.  "  We  must  make  the 
best  of  such  people  as  we  have." 

As  Cotton  Mather  was  a  very  distinguished  man, 
Grandfather  took  some  pains  to  give  the  children  a 
lively  conception  of  his  character.  Over  the  door 
of  his  library  were  painted  these  words,  be  shori 
—•as  a  warning  to  visitors  that  they  must  not  do  the 
world  so  much  harm  as  needlessly  to  interrupt  this 


grandfather's  chairs  101 

great  man's  wonderful  labors.  On  entering  the 
room  you  would  probably  behold  it  crowded,  and 
piled,  and  heaped  with  books.  There  were  huge, 
ponderous  folios,  and  quartos,  and  little  duodecimos, 
in  English,  Latin,  Greek,  Hebrew,  Chaldaic,  and  all 
other  languages  that  either  originated  at  the  confu- 
sion of  Babel  or  have  since  come  into  use. 

All  these  books,  no  doubt,  were  tossed  about  in 
confusion,  thus  forming  a  visible  emblem  of  the  man- 
ner in  which  their  contents  were  crowded  into  Cot- 
ton Mather's  brain.  And  in  the  middle  of  the  room 
stood  a  table,  on  which,  besides  printed  volumes, 
were  strewn  manuscript  sermons,  historical  tracts, 
and  political  pamphlets,  all  written  in  such  a  queer, 
blind,  crabbed,  fantastical  hand,  that  a  writing  master 
would  have  gone  raving  mad  at  the  sight  of  them. 
By  this  table  stood  Grandfather's  chair,  which  seemed 
already  to  have  contracted  an  air  of  deep  erudition, 
as  if  its  cushion  were  stuffed  with  Latin,  Greek,  and 
Hebrew,  and  other  hard  matters. 

In  this  chair,  from  one  year's  end  to  another,  sat 
that  prodigious  bookworm,  Cotton  Mather,  some- 
times devouring  a  great  book,  and  sometimes  scrib- 
bling one  as  big.  In  Grandfather's  younger  days 
there  used  to  be  a  wax  figure  of  him  in  one  of  the 
Boston  museums,  representing  a  solemn,  dark-visaged 
person,  in  a  minister's  black  gown,  and  with  a  black  ■ 
letter  volume  before  him. 


108  grandfather's  chair. 

"  It  is  difficult,  my  children,"  observed  Grand 
father,  "  to  make  you  understand  such  a  charactei 
as  Cotton  Mather's,  in  whom  there  was  so  much 
good,  and  yet  so  many  failings  and  frailties.  Un- 
doubtedly he  was  a  pious  man.  Often  he  kept  fasts  ; 
and  once,  for  three  whole  days,  he  allowed  himself 
not  a  morsel  of  food,  but  spent  the  time  in  prayer 
and  religious  meditation.  Many  a  livelong  night  did 
he  watch  and  pray.  These  fasts  and  vigils  mad.j 
him  meagre  and  haggard,  and  probably  caused  him 
to  appear  as  if  he  hardly  belonged  to  the  world." 

"  Was  not  the  witchcraft  delusion  partly  caused  by 
Cotton  Mather  ?  "  inquired  Laurence. 

"  He  was  the  chief  agent  of  the  mischief,"  an- 
swered Grandfather  ;  "  but  we  will  not  suppose  that 
he  acted  otherwise  than  conscientiously.  He  believed 
that  there  were  evil  spirits  all  about  the  world. 
Doubtless  he  imagined  that  thev  were  hidden  in  the 
corners  and  crevices  of  his  library,  and  that  they 
peeped  out  from  among  the  leaves  of  many  of  his 
books,  as  he  turned  them  over,  at  midnight.  He 
supposed  that  these  unlovely  demons  were  every 
where,  in  the  sunshine  as  well  as  in  the  darkness, 
and  that  they  were  hidden  in  men's  hearts,  and  stole 
into  their  most  secret  thoughts." 

Here  Grandfather  was  interrupted  by  little  Alice, 
tvho  hid  her  face  in  his  lap,  and  murmured  a  wish 
that  he  would  not  talk  any  more  about  Cotton  Mathei 


GRANDFATHEll'8    CHA1B.  109 

uid  the  evil  spirits.  Grandfather  kissed  her,  and 
told  her  that  angels  were  the  only  spirits  "whom  she 
had  any  thing  to  do  with.  He  then  spoke  of  the 
public  affairs  of  the  period. 

A  new  war  between  France  and  England  had 
broken  out  in  1702,  and  had  been  raging  ever  since. 
In  the  course  of  it,  New  England  suffered  much 
injury  from  the  French  and  Indians,  who  often  came 
through  the  woods  from  Canada  and  assaulted  the 
frontier  towns.  Villages  were  sometimes  burned,  and 
the  inhabitants  slaughtered,  within  a  day's  ride  of 
Boston.  The  people  of  New  England  had  a  bitter 
hatred  against  the  French,  not  only  for  the  mischief 
which  they  did  with  their  own  hands,  but  because 
they  incited  the  Indians  to  hostility. 

The  New  Englanders  knew  that  they  could  never 
dwell  in  security  until  the  provinces  of  France  should 
be  subdued  and  brought  under  the  English  govern- 
ment. They  frequently,  in  time  of  war,  undertook 
military  expeditions  against  Acadia  and  Canada,  and 
sometimes  besieged  the  fortresses  by  which  those 
territories  were  defended.  But  the  most  earnest  wish 
of  their  hearts  was  to  take  Quebec,  and  so  get  pos- 
session of  the  whole  Province  of  Canada.  Sir 
William  Phipps  had  once  attempted  it,  but  without 
success. 

Fleets  and  soldiers  were  often  sent  from  England 
to  assist  the  colonists  in  their  warlike  undertakings 


110  grandfather's  chair. 

In  1710  Port  Royal,  a  fortress  of  Acadia,  was  taken 
by  the  English.  The  next  year,  in  the  month  of 
June,  a  fleet,  commanded  by  Admiral  Sir  Hovenden 
Walker,  arrived  in  Boston  Harbor.  On  board  of  this 
fleet  was  the  English  General  Hill,  with  seven  regi- 
ments of  soldiers,  who  had  been  fighting  under  the 
Duke  of  Marlborough  in  Flanders.  The  govern 
ment  of  Massachusetts  was  called  upon  to  find  pro 
visions  for  the  army  and  fleet,  and  to  raise  more  mei 
to  assist  in  taking  Canada. 

What  with  recruiting  and  drilling  of  soldiers, 
I  here  was  now  nothing  but  warlike  bustle  in  the 
streets  of  Boston.  The  drum  and  fife,  the  rattle  of 
arms,  and  the  shouts  of  boys  were  heard  from  morn- 
ing till  night.  In  about  a  month  the  fleet  set  sail, 
carrying  four  regiments  from  New  England  and  New 
York,  besides  the  English  soldiers.  The  whole 
army  amounted  to  at  least  seven  thousand  men. 
They  steered  for  the  mouth  of  the  River  St.  Lawrence. 

"  Cotton  Mather  prayed  most  fervently  for  their 
success,"  continued  Grandfather,  "  both  in  his  pulpit 
and  when  he  kneeled  down  in  the  solitude  of  his 
library  resting  his  face  on  our  old  chair.  But  Provi- 
dence ordered  the  result  otherwise.  In  a  few  weeks 
tidings  were  received  that  eight  or  nine  of  the  ves- 
sels had  been  wrecked  in  the  St.  Lawrence,  and  that 
above  a  thousand  drowned  soldiers  had  been  washed 
ashore  on  the   banks  of  that  mighty  river.     After 


GRANDFATHER  S    CHAIR.  Ill 

this  misfortune  Sir  Hovenden  Walker  set  sail  foi 
England ;  and  many  pious  people  began  to  think  it  a 
sin  even  to  wish  for  the  conquest  of  Canada." 

"  I  would  never  give  it  up  so,"  cried  Charley. 

"  Nor  did  they,  as  we  shall  see,"  replied  Grand- 
father. "  However,  no  more  attempts  were  made 
during  this  war,  which  came  to  a  close  in  1718. 
The  people  of  New  England  were  probably  glad  of 
6ome  repose ;  for  their  young  men  had  been  made 
soldiers,  till  many  of  them  were  fit  for  nothing 
else.  And  those  who  remained  at  home  had  been 
heavily  taxed  to  pay  for  the  arms,  ammunition,  forti- 
fications, and  all  the  other  endless  expenses  of  a  war. 
There  was  great  need  of  the  prayers  of  Cotton 
Mather  and  of  all  pious  men,  not  only  on  account 
of  the  sufferings  of  the  people,  but  because  the  old 
moral  and  religious  character  of  New  England  was 
in  danger  of  being  utterly  lost." 

"  How  glorious  it  would  have  been,"  remarked 
Laurence,  "  if  our  forefathers  could  have  kept  the 
country  unspotted  with  blood !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Grandfather  ;  "  but  there  was  a  stern, 
warlike  spirit  in  them  from  the  beginning.  They 
Beem  never  to  have  thought  of  questioning  either  the 
morality  or  piety  of  war." 

The  next  event  which  Grandfather  spoke  of  waa 
one  that  Cotton  Mather,  as  wTell  as  most  of  the  other 
inhabitants  of  New   England,    heartily  rejoiced    at: 


I  la  GRANDFATHERS    CHAIR. 

This  was  the  accession  of  the  Elector  of  Hanover  to 
the  throne  of  England,  in  1714,  on  the  death  of 
Queen  Anne.  Hitherto  the  people  had  been  in 
continual  dread  that  the  male  line  of  the  Stuarts, 
who  were  descended  from  the  beheaded  King  Charles 
and  the  banished  King  James,  would  be  restored  to 
the  throne.  In  that  case,  as  the  Stuart  family  were 
Roman  Catholics,  it  was  supposed  that  they  would 
attempt  to  establish  their  own  religion  throughout 
the  British  dominions.  But  the  Elector  of  Hanover 
and  all  his  race  were  Protestants  ;  so  that  now  the 
descendants  of  the  old  Puritans  were  relieved  from 
many  fears  and  disquietudes. 

"  The  importance  of  this  event,"  observed  Grand- 
father, "  was  a  thousand  times  greater  than  that  of  a 
presidential  election  in  our  own  days.  If  the  people 
dislike  their  president,  they  may  get  rid  of  him  in 
four  years  ;  whereas  a  dynasty  of  kings  may  wear 
the  crown  for  an  unlimited  period." 

The  German  elector  was  proclaimed  king  from 
the  balcony  of  the  town  house  in  Boston,  by  the 
title  of  George  I. ;  while  the  trumpets  sounded,  and 
the  people  cried  amen.  That  night  the  town  was 
illuminated  ;  and  Cotton  Mather  threw  aside  book 
and  pen,  and  left  Grandfather's  chair  vacant,  white 
he  walked  hither  and  thither  to  witness  the  re 
joicings. 


CHAPTER   V 

"  Cotton  Mather,"  continued  Grandfather,  "was 
a  bitter  enemy  to  Governor  Dudley ;  and  nobody  ex- 
ulted more  than  he  when  that  crafty  politician  was 
removed  from  the  government,  and  succeeded  by 
Colonel  Shute.  This  took  place  in  1716.  The  new 
governor  had  been  an  officer  in  the  renowned  Duke 
of  Marlborough's  army,  and  had  fought  in  some  of 
the  great  battles  in  Flanders." 

"  Now  I  hope,"  said  Charley,  "  we  shall  hear  of 
his  doing  great  things." 

"  I  am  afraid  you  will  be  disappointed,  Charley," 
answered  Grandfather.  "  It  is  true  that  Colonei 
Shute  had  probably  never  led  so  unquiet  a  life  while 
fighting  the  French  as  he  did  now,  while  governing 
this  province  of  Massachusetts  Bay.  But  his  troubles 
consisted  almost  entirely  of  dissensions  with  the  legis- 
lature. The  king  had  ordered  him  to  lay  claim  to 
a  fixed  salary  ;  but  the  representatives  of  the  people 
insisted  upon  paying  him  only  such  sums  from  yea; 
to  year  as  they  saw  fit." 

8  (113) 


114  grandfather's  chair. 

Grandfather  here  explained  some  of  the  circum- 
•  stances  that  made  the  situation  of  a  colonial  governoi 
so  difficult  and  irksome.  There  was  not  the  same 
feeling  towards  the  chief  magistrate  now  that  had 
existed  while  he  was  chosen  by  the  free  suffrages  of 
the  people.  It  was  felt  that  as  the  king  appointed 
the  governor,  and  as  he  held  his  office  during  the 
king's  pleasure,  it  would  be  his  great  object  to  please 
the  king.  But  the  people  thought  that  a  governor 
ought  to  have  nothing  in  view  but  the  best  interests 
of  those  whom  he  governed. 

"  The  governor,'  remarked  Grandfather,  "  had  two 
masters  to  serve  —  the  king,  who  appointed  him ;  and 
the  people,  on  whom  he  depended  for  his  pay.  Few 
men  in  tins  position  would  have  ingenuity  enough 
to  satisfy  either  party.  Colonel  Shute,  though  a 
good-natured,  well-meaning  man,  succeeded  so  ill 
with  the  people,  that,  in  1722,  he  suddenly  went 
away  to  England  and  made  complaint  to  King 
George.  In  the  mean  time  Lieutenant  Governor 
Dummer  directed  the  affairs  of  the  province,  and  car- 
ried on  a  long  and  bloody  war  with  the  Indians." 

•'  But  where  was  our  chair  all  this  time  ?  "  asked 
Clara. 

"  It  still  remained  in  Cotton  Mather's  library," 
replied  Grandfather  ;  "  and  I  must  not  omit  to  tell 
you  an  incident  which  is  very  much  to  the  honor  of 
this  celebrated  man.     It  is  the  more  proper,  too,  thai 


grandfather's  chair.  115 

you  should  hear  it,  because  it  will  show  you  what  a 
terrible  calamity  the  small  pox  was  to  our  forefathers. 
The  history  of  the  province  (and,  of  course,  the  his- 
tory of  our  chair)  would  be  incomplete  without  par- 
ticular mention  of  it." 

A  ccordingly  Grandfather  told  the  children  a  story, 
to  which,  for  want  of  a  better  title,  we  shall  give 
that  of 

THE  REJECTED   BLESSING. 

One  day,  in  1721,  Doctor  Cotton  Mather  sat  in 
his  library  reading  a  book  that  had  been  published 
by  the  Royal  Society  of  London.  But  every  few 
moments  he  laid  the  book  upon  the  table,  and 
leaned  back  in  Grandfather's  chair  with  an  aspect  of 
deep  care  and  disquietude.  There  were  certain 
things  which  troubled  him  exceedingly,  so  that  he 
could  hardly  fix  his  thoughts  upon  what  he  read. 

It  was  now  a  gloomy  time  in  Boston.  That  ter- 
rible disease,  the  small  pox,  had  recently  made  its 
appearance  in  the  town.  Ever  sin.  e  the  first  settle- 
ment of  the  country  this  awful  pestilence  had  come, 
at  intervals,  and  swept  away  multitudes  of  the  in- 
habitants. Whenever  it  commenced  its  ravages, 
nothing  seemed  to  stay  its  progress  until  there  were 
no  more  victims  for  it  to  seize  upon.  Oftentimes 
hundreds  of  people  at  once  lay  groaning  with  its 
agony  ;  and  when  it  departed,  its  deep  footsteps  were 
always  to  be  traced  in  many  gravfis. 


116  grandfather's  chair. 

The  people  never  felt  secure  from  this  calamity 
Sometimes,  perhaps,  it  was  brought  into  the  country 
Dy  a  poor  sailor,  who  had  caught  the  infection  in 
foreign  parts,  and  came  hither  to  die  and  to  be  the 
cause  of  many  deaths.  Sometimes,  no  doubt,  it  fol- 
lowed in  the  train  of  the  pompous  governors  when 
they  came  over  from  England.  Sometimes  the  dis- 
ease  lay  hidden  in  the  cargoes  of  ships,  among  silks, 
and  brocades,  and  other  costly  merchandise  which  was 
imported  for  the  rich  people  to  wear.  And  some- 
fimes  it  started  up  seemingly  of  its  own  accord,  and 
nobody  could  tell  whence  it  came.  The  physician, 
being  called  to  attend  the  sick  person,  would  look  at 
him,  and  say,  "  It  is  the  small  pox  !  Let  the  patient 
be  carried  to  the  hospital." 

And  now  this  dreadful  sickness  had  shown  itself 
again  in  Boston.  Cotton  Mather  was  greatly  afflicted 
for  the  sake  of  the  whole  province.  He  had  children, 
too,  who  were  exposed  to  the  danger.  At  that  very 
moment  he  heard  the  voice  of  his  youngest  son,  foi 
whom  his  heart  was  moved  with  apprehension. 

"  Alas  !  I  fear  for  that  poor  child,"  said  Cottor 
Mather  to  himself.  "  What  shall  I  do  for  my  son 
Samuel  ?  " 

Again  he  attempted  to  drive  away  these  thoughts 
by  taking  up  the  book  which  he  had  been  reading. 
And  now,  all  of  a  sudden,  his  attention  became  fixed 
The  book  contained  a  printed  letter  that  an  Italiar 


grandfather's  chaik.  117 

physician  had  written  upon  the  very  subject  about 
which  Cotton  Mather  was  so  anxiously  meditating. 
He  ran  his  eye  eagerly  over  tne  pages  ;  and,  behold! 
a  method  was  disclosed  to  him  by  which  the  small 
pox  might  be  robbed  of  its  worst  terrors.  Such  a 
method  was  known  in  Greece.  The  physicians  of 
Turkey,  too,  those  longbearded  Eastern  sages,  had 
been  acquainted  with  it  for  many  years.  The  negroes 
of  Africa,  ignorant  as  they  were,  had  likewise  prac- 
tised it,  and  thus  had  shown  themselves  wiser  than 
the  white  men. 

"  Of  a  truth,"  ejaculated  Cotton  Mather,  clasping 
his  hands  and  looking  up  to  heaven,  "  it  was  a  mer- 
ciful Providence  that  brought  this  book  under  mine 
eye.  I  will  procure  a  consultation  of  physicians, 
and  see  whether  this  wondrous  inoculation  may  not 
stay  the  progress  of  the  destroyer." 

So  he  arose  from  Grandfather's  chair  and  went  out 
of  the  library.  Near  the  door  he  met  his  son  Samuel, 
who  seemed  downcast  and  out  of  spirits.  The  boy 
had  heard,  probably,  that  some  of  his  playmates  were 
taken  ill  with  the  small  pox.  But,  as  his  father 
.  ooked  cheerfully  at  him,  Samuel  took  courage,  trust- 
ing that  either  the  wisdom  of  co  learned  a  minister 
would  find  some  remedy  for  the  danger,  or  else  that 
his  prayers  would  secure  protection  from  on  high. 

Meanwhile  Cotton  Mather  took  his  staff  and  three- 
cornered  hat  and  walked  about  the  streets,  calling  at 


118  grandfather's  chair. 

the  houses  of  all  the  physicians  in  Boston.  They 
were  a  very  wise  fraternity ;  and  their  huge  wigs, 
and  black  dresses,  and  solemn  visages  made  their 
wisdom  appear  even  profounder  than  it  was.  One 
after  another  he  acquainted  them  with  the  discovery 
which  he  had  hit  upon. 

But  the  grave  and  sagacious  personages  would 
scarcely  listen  to  him.  The  oldest  doctor  in  town 
contented  himself  with  remarking  that  no  such  thing 
as  inoculation  was  mentioned  by  Galen  or  Hippoc- 
rates ;  and  it  was  impossible  that  modern  physicians 
should  be  wiser  than  those  old  sages.  A  second  held 
up  his  hands  in  dumb  astonishment  and  horror  at 
the  madness  of  what  Cotton  Mather  proposed  to  do. 
A  third  told  him,  in  pretty  plain  terms,  that  he  knew 
not  what  he  was  talking  about.  A  fourth  requested, 
in  the  name  of  the  whole  medical  fraternity,  that 
Cotton  Mather  would  confine  his  attention  to  people's 
souls,  and  leave  the  physicians  to  take  care  of  their 
bodies. 

In  short,  there  was  but  a  single  doctor  among  them 
all  who  would  grant  tho  poor  minister  so  much  as  a 
patient  hearing.  This  was  Doctor  Zabdiel  Boylston. 
He  looked  into  the  matter  like  a  man  of  sense,  and 
finding,  beyond  a  doubt,  that  inoculation  had  rescued 
many  from  death,  he  resolved  to  try  the  experiment 
in  his  own  family. 

And  so  he  did.     But  when  the   other  physicians 


grandfather's  chair.  119 

heard  of  it  they  arose  in  great  fury  and  began  a  wai 
of  words,  written,  printed,  and  spoken,  against  Cot- 
ton Mather  and  Doctor  Boylston.  To  hear  them  talk, 
you  would  have  supposed  that  these  two  harmless  and 
benevolent  men  had  plotted  the  ruin  of  the  country. 

The  people,  also,  took  the  alarm.  Many,  who 
thought  themselves  more  pious  than  their  neighbors, 
contended  that,  if  Providence  had  ordained  them  to 
die  of  the  small  pox,  it  was  sinful  to  aim  at  prevent- 
ing it.  The  strangest  reports  were  in  circulation. 
Some  said  that  Doctor  Boylston  had  contrived  a 
method  for  conveying  the  gout,  rheumatism,  sick 
headache,  asthma,  and  all  other  diseases  from  one 
person  to  another,  and  difFusing  them  through  the 
whole  community.  Others  flatly  affirmed  that  the 
evil  one  had  got  possession  of  Cotton  Mather,  and 
was  at  the  bottom  of  the  whole  business. 

You  must  observe,  children,  that  Cotton  Mather's 
fellow-citizens  were  generally  inclined  to  doubt  the 
wisdom  of  any  measure  which  he  might  propose  to 
them.  They  recollected  how  he  had  led  them  astray 
in  the  old  witchcraft  delusion  ;  and  now,  if  he  thought 
and  acted  ever  so  wisely,  it  was  difficult  for  him  to 
get  the  credit  of  it. 

The  people's  wrath  grew  so  hot  at  his  attempt  to 
guard  them  from  the  small  pox  that  he  could  not 
walk  the  streets  in  peace.  Whenever  the  venerable 
form  of  the  old  minister,  meagre  and  haggard  with 


120  grandfather's  chair. 

fasts  and  vigils,  was  seen  approaching,  hisses  were 
heard,  and  shouts  of  derision,  and  scornful  and  bitter 
laughter.  The  women  snatched  away  their  children 
from  his  path,  lest  he  should  do  them  a  mischief. 
Still,  however,  bending  his  head  meekly,  and  per- 
haps stretching  out  his  hands  to  bless  those  who  re- 
viled him,  he  pursued  his  way.  But  the  tears  came 
into  his  eyes  to  think  how  blindly  the  people  rejected 
the  means  of  safety  that  were  offered  them. 

Indeed,  there  were  melancholy  sights  enough  in 
the  streets  of  Boston  to  draw  forth  the  tears  of  a 
compassionate  man.  Over  the  door  of  almost  every 
dwelling  a  red  flag  was  fluttering  in  the  air.  This 
was  the  signal  that  the  small  pox  had  entered  the 
house  and  attacked  some  member  of  the  family ;  o* 
perhaps  the  whole  family,  old  and  young,  Mere  strug 
gling  at  once  with  the  pestilence.  Friends  and  rela 
tives,  when  they  met  one  another  in  the  streets. 
would  hurry  onward  without  a  grasp  of  the  hand  or 
scarcely  a  word  of  greeting,  lest  they  should  catch  or 
communicate  the  contagion ;  and  often  a  coffin  was 
borne  hastily  along. 

"  Alas !  alas !  "  said  Cotton  Mather  to  himself, 
"  what  shall  be  done  for  this  poor,  misguided  peo- 
ple ?  0  that  Providence  would  open  their  eyes,  and 
enable  them  to  discern  good  from  evil !  " 

So  furious,  however,  were  the  people,  that  they 
thieatened  vengeance  against  any  person  who  should 


grandfather's  chair.  121 

dare  to  practise  inoculation,  though  it  were  only  in 
his  own  family.  This  was  a  hard  case  for  Cotton 
Mather,  who  saw  no  other  way  to  rescue  his  poor 
child  Samuel  from  the  disease.  But  he  resolved  to 
save  him,  even  if  his  house  should  be  burned  over 
his  head. 

"  I  will  not  be  turned  aside,"  said  he.  "  My 
townsmen  shall  see  that  I  have  faith  in  this  thing, 
when  I  make  the  experiment  on  my  beloved  son, 
whose  life  is  dearer  to  me  than  my  own.  And  when 
I  have  saved  Samuel,  peradventure  they  will  be  per 
suaded  to  save  themselves." 

Accordingly  Samuel  was  inoculated ;  and  so  was 
Mr.  Walter,  a  son-in-law  of  Cotton  Mather.  Doctor 
Boylston,  likewise,  inoculated  many  persons  ;  and 
while  hundreds  died  who  had  caught  the  contagion 
from  the  garments  of  the  sick,  almost  all  were  pre- 
served who  followed  the  wise  physician's  advice. 

But  the  people  were  not  yet  convinced  of  their 
mistake.  One  night  a  destructive  little  instrument, 
called  a  hand  grenade,  was  thrown  into  Cotton 
Mather's  window,  and  rolled  under  Grandfather's 
chair.  It  was  supposed  to  be  filled  with  gunpowder, 
the  explosion  of  which  would  have  blown  the  poor 
minister  to  atoms.  But  the  best  informed  historians 
are  of  opinion  that  the  grenade  contained  only  brim- 
stone and  assajoetida,  and  was  meant  to  plague  Cotton 
Mather  with  a  very  evil  perfume. 


122  GRANDFATHER  S    CHAIR. 

This  is  no  strange  thing  in  human  experience 
Men  who  attempt  to  do  the  world  more  good  than 
the  world  is  able  entirely  to  comprehend  are  almost 
invariably  held  in  bad  odor.  But  yet,  if  the  wise 
and  good  man  can  wait  a  while,  either  the  present 
generation  or  posterity  will  do  him  justice.  So  it 
proved  in  the  case  which  we  have  been  speaking  of. 
In  after  years,  when  inoculation  was  universally  prac- 
tised and  thousands  were  saved  from  death  by  it, 
the  people  remembered  old  Cotton  Mather,  then 
sleeping  in  his  grave.  They  acknowledged  that  the 
very  thing  for  which  they  had  so  reviled  and  perse- 
cuted him  was  the  best  and  wisest  thing  he  ever  did. 

"  Grandfather,  this  is  not  an  agreeable  story,"  ob- 
served Clara. 

"No,  Clara,"  replied  Grandfather.  "But  it  is 
right  that  you  should  know  what  a  dark  shadow  thia 
disease  threw  over  the  times  of  our  forefathers. 
And  now,  if  you  wish  to  learn  more  about  Cotton 
Mather,  you  must  read  his  biography,  written  bv 
Mr.  Peabody,  of  Springfield.  You  will  find  it  very 
entertaining  and  instructive  ;  but  perhaps  the  writer 
is  somewhat  too  harsh  in  his  judgment  of  this  singu- 
lar man.  He  estimates  him  fairly,  indeed,  and  un- 
derstands him  well ;  but  he  unriddles  his  character 
rather  by  acuteness   than  by  sympathy.      Now,  hii 


grandfather's  chair.  123 

life  should  have  been  written  by  one  who,  knowing 
all  his  faults,  would  nevertheless  love  him." 

So  Grandfather  made  an  end  of  Cotton  Mather, 
telling  his  auditors  that  he  died  in  1728,  at  the  age 
of  sixty-five,  and  bequeathed  the  chair  to  Elisha 
Cooke.  This  gentleman  was  a  famous  advocate  of 
the  people's  rights. 

The  same  year  William  Burnet,  a  son  of  the  cel- 
ebrated Bishop  Burnet,  arrived  in  Boston  with  the 
commission  of  governor.  He  was  the  first  that  had 
been  appointed  since  the  departure  of  Colonel  Shute. 
Governor  Burnet  took  up  his  residence  with  Mr. 
Cooke  while  the  Province  House  was  undergoing  re- 
pairs. During  this  period  he  was  always  compli- 
mented with  a  seat  in  Grandfather's  chair ;  and  so 
comfortable  did  he  find  it,  that,  on  removing  to  the 
Province  House,  he  could  not  bear  to  leave  it  behind 
him.  Mr.  Cooke,  therefore,  requested  his  accept- 
ance of   it. 

"  I  should  think,"  said  Laurence,  "  that  the  people 
would  have  petitioned  the  king  always  to  appoint  a 
native-born  New  Englander  to  govern  them." 

"  Undoubtedly  it  was  a  grievance,"  answered 
Grandfather,  "  to  see  men  placed  in  this  station  who 
perhaps  had  neither  talents  nor  virtues  to  fit  them  for 
it,  and  who  certainly  could  have  no  natural  affection 
for  the  country.  The  king  generally  bestowed  the 
governorships  of  the  American  colonies  upon  needy 


121  grandfather's  chair. 

noblemen,  or  hangers  on  at  court,  or  disbanded  offi- 
cers. The  people  knew  that  such  persons  would  be 
very  likely  to  make  the  good  of  the  country  subser- 
vient to  the  wishes  of  the  king.  The  legislature, 
therefore,  endeavored  to  keep  as  much  power  as  pos- 
sible in  their  own  hands,  by  refusing  to  settle  a  fixed 
salary  upon  the  governors.  It  was  thought  better  to 
pay  them  according  to  their  deserts." 

"  Did  Governor  Burnet  work  well  for  his  money  ? " 
asked  Charley. 

Grandfather  could  not  help  smiling  at  the  sim- 
plicity of  Charley's  question.  Nevertheless,  it  put 
the  matter  in  a  very  plain  point  of  view. 

He  then  described  the  character  of  Governor  Bur- 
net, representing  him  as  a  good  scholar,  possessed  of 
much  ability,  and  likewise  of  unspotted  integrity. 
His  story  affords  a  striking  example  how  unfortunate 
it  is  for  a  man,  who  is  placed  as  ruler  over  a  country, 
tc  be  compelled  to  aim  at  any  thing  but  the  good  of 
the  people.  Governor  Burnet  was  so  chained  down 
by  his  instructions  from  the  king  that  he  could  not 
act  as  he  might  otherwise  have  wished.  Conse- 
quently, his  whole  term  of  office  was  wasted  in  quar- 
rels with  the  legislature. 

"  I  am  afraid,  children,"  said  Grandfather,  "  that 
Governor  Burnet  found  but  little  rest  or  comfort  in 
our  old  chair.  Here  lie  used  to  sit,  dressed  in  a  coat 
»ehich  was  made  of  rough,  shaggy  cloth  outside,  buJ 


grandfather's  chair.  125 

of  smooth  velvet  within.  It  was  said  that  his  own 
character  resembled  that  coat ;  for  his  outward  man- 
ner was  rough,  but  his  inward  disposition  soft  and 
kind.  It  is  a  pity  that  such  a  man  could  not  have 
been  kept  free  from  trouble.  But  so  harassing  were 
his  disputes  with  the  representatives  of  the  people 
that  he  fell  into  a  fever,  of  which  he  died  in  1729. 
The  legislature  had  refused  him  a  salary  while  alive ; 
but  they  appropriated  money  enough  to  give  him  a 
splendid  and  pompous  funeral." 

And  now  Grandfather  perceived  that  little  Alice 
had  fallen  fast  asleep,  with  her  head  upon  his  foot- 
stool. Indeed,  as  Clara  observed,  she  had  been  sleep- 
ing from  the  time  of  Sir  Hovenden  Walker's  expedi- 
tion against  Quebec  until  the  death  of  Governor 
Burnet  —  a  period  of  about  eighteen  years.  And 
yet,  after  so  long  a  nap,  sweet  little  Alice  was  a 
golden-haired  child  of   scarcely  five  years  old. 

"  It  puts  me  in  mind,"  said  Laurence,  "  of  the 
story  of  the  enchanted  princess,  who  slept  many  a 
hundred  yearSj  and  awoke  as  young  and  beautiful 
as  erer." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

A  few  evenings  afterwards,  cousin  Clara  happened 
»o  inquire  of  Grandfather  whether  the  old  chair  had 
never  been  present  at  a  ball.  At  the  same  time 
little  Alice  brought  forward  a  doll,  with  whom  she 
had  been  holding  a  long  conversation. 

"  See,  Grandfather  !  "  cried  she.  "  Did  such  a 
pretty  lady  as  this  ever  sit  in  your  great  chair  ?  " 

These  questions  led  Grandfather  to  talk  about  the 
fashions  and  manners  which  now  began  to  be  intro- 
duced from  England  into  the  provinces.  The  sim- 
plicity of  the  good  old  Puritan  times  was  fast  disap- 
pearing. This  was  partly  owing  to  the  increasing 
number  and  wealth  of  the  inhabitants,  and  to  the  ad- 
ditions which  they  continually  received  by  the  arriva. 
and  settlement  of  people  from  beyond  the  sea. 

Another  cause  of  a  pompous  and  artificial  mode  of 
life,  among  those  who  could  afford  it,  was,  that  the 
example  was  set  by  the  royal  governors.  Under  the 
old  charter,  the  governors  were  the  representatives 
of  the  people,  and  therefore  their  way  of  living  had 


grandfather's  chair.  127 

probably  been  marked  by  a  popular  simplicity.  But 
now,  as  they  represented  the  person  of  the  king,  they 
thought  it  necessary  to  preserve  the  dignity  of  their 
station  by  the  practice  of  high  and  gorgeous  cere^ 
monials.  And,  besides,  the  profitable  offices  under 
the'  government  were  filled  by  men  who  had  lived  in 
London,  and  had  there  contracted  fashionable  and 
luxurious  habits  of  living  which  they  would  not  now 
lay  aside.  The  wealthy  people  of  the  province  imitated 
them  ;  and  thus  began  a  general  change  in  social  life. 

"  So,  my  dear  Clara,"  said  Grandfather,  "  after  our 
chair-  had  entered  the  Province  House,  it  must  often 
have  been  present  at  balls  and  festivals  ;  though  I  can- 
not give  you  a  description  of  any  particular  one.  But 
I  doubt  not  that  they  were  very  magnificent ;  and 
slaves  in  gorgeous  liveries  waited  on  the  guests,  and 
offered  them  wine  in  goblets  of  massive  silver." 

"  Were  there  slaves  in  those  days ! "  exclaimed 
Clara. 

"  Yes,  black  slaves  and  white,"  replied  Grandfather. 
"  Our  ancestors  not  only  brought  negroes  from  Africa, 
but  Indians  from  South  America,  and  white  people 
from  Ireland.  These  last  were  sold,  not  for  life,  but 
for  a  certain  number  of  years,  in  order  to  pay  the  ex- 
penses of  their  voyage  across  the  Atlantic.  Nothing 
was  more  common  than  to  see  a  lot  of  likely  Irish 
girls  advertised  for  sale  in  the  newspapers.  As  for 
the  little  negro  babies,  they  were  offered  to  be  given 
away  like  young  kittens." 


128  grandfather's  chair. 

"  Perhaps  Alice  would  have  liked  one  to  play  with 
'instead  of  her  doll,"  said  Charley,  laughing. 

But  little  Alice  clasped  the  waxen  doll  closer  to 
her  bosom. 

"  Now,  as  for  this  pretty  doll,  my  little  Alice,"  said 
Grandfather,  "  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  what  splen- 
did dresses  the  ladies  wore  in  those  times.  They  had 
silks,  and  satins,  and  damasks,  and  brocades,  and  high 
headdresses,  and  all  sorts  of  fine  things.  And  they 
used  to  wear  hooped  petticoats,  of  such  enormous  size 
that  it  was  quite  a  journey  to  walk  round  them." 

"  And  how  did  the  gentlemen  dress  ? "  asked 
Charley. 

"  With  full  as  much  magnificence  as  the  ladies," 
answered  Grandfather.  "  For  their  holiday  suits  they 
had  coats  of  figured  velvet,  crimson,  green,  blue,  and 
all  other  gay  colors,  embroidered  with  gold  or  silver 
lace.  Their  waistcoats,  which  were  five  times  as  large 
as  modern  ones,  were  very  splendid.  Sometimes  the 
whole  waistcoat,  which  came  down  almost  to  the 
knees,  was  made  of  gold  brocade." 

"  Why,  the  wearer  must  have  shone  like  a  golden 
image  !  "  said  Clara. 

"  And  then,"  continued  Grandfather,  "  they  wore 
various  sorts  of  periwigs,  such  as  the  tie,  the  spencer, 
the  brigadier,  the  major,  the  albemarle,  the  ramilies, 
the  feather  top,  and  the  full  bottom.  Their  three- 
eornered  hats  were  laced  with  gold  or  silver.  They 
had  shining  buckles  at  the  knees  of  their  smallclothes. 


grandfather's  chair.  129 

and  buckles  likewise  in  their  shoes.  They  wore 
swords  with  beautiful  hilts,  either  of  silver,  or  some- 
times of  polished  steel,  inlaid  with  gold." 

"  0, 1  should  like  to  wear  a  sword ! "  cried  Charley. 

"  And  an  embroidered  crimson  velvet  coat,"  said 
Clara,  laughing,  "and  a  gold  brocade  waistcoat  down 
to  your  knees  !  " 

"  And  knee  buckles  and  shoe  buckles,"  said  Lau- 
rence, laughing  also. 

"  And  a  periwig,"  added  little  Alice,  soberly,  not 
knowing  what  was  the  article  of  dress  which  she 
recommended  to  our  friend  Charley. 

Grandfather  smiled  at  the  idea  of  Charley's  sturdy 
little  figure  in  such  a  grotesque  caparison.  He  then 
went  on  with  the  history  of  the  chair,  and  told  the 
children  that,  in  1730,  King  George  II.  appointed 
Jonathan  Belcher  to  be  governor  of  Massachusetts 
in  place  of  the  deceased  Governor  Burnet.  Mr. 
Belcher  was  a  native  of  the  province,  but  had  spent 
much  of  his  life  in  Europe. 

The  new  governor  found  Grandfather's  chair  in 
the  Province  House.  He  Avas  struck  with  its  noble 
and  stately  aspect,  but  was  of  opinion  that  age  and 
hard  services  had  made  it  scarcely  so  fit  for  courtly 
company  as  when  it  stood  in  the  Earl  of  Lincoln's 
hall.  Wherefore,  as  Governor  Belcher  was  fond  of 
splendor,  he  employed  a  skilful  artist  to  beautify  the 
chair.  This  was  done  by  polishing  and  varnishing 
9 


130  grandfather's  chair. 

it,  and  by  gilding  the  carved  work  of  the  elbows, 
and  likewise  the  oaken  flowers  of  the  back.  The 
lion's  head  now  shone  like  a  veritable  lump  of  gold. 
Finally  Governor  Belcher  gave  the  chair  a  cushion 
of  blue  damask,  with  a  rich  golden  fringe. 

"  Our  good  old  chair  being  thus  glorified/'  pro- 
ceeded Grandfather,  "  it  glittered  with  a  great  deal 
more  splendor  than  it  had  exhibited  just  a  century 
before,  when  the  Lady  Arbella  brought  it  over  from 
England.  Most  people  mistook  it  for  a  chair  of  the 
latest  London  fashion.  And  this  may  serve  for  an 
example,  that  there  is  almost  always  an  old  and  time- 
worn  substance  under  all  the  glittering  show  of  new 
invention." 

"  Grandfather,  I  cannot  see  any  of  the  gilding," 
remarked  Charley,  who  had  been  examining  the  chair 
very  minutely. 

"  You  will  not  wonder  that  it  Ins  been  rubbed  off," 
replied  Grandfather,  "  when  you  hear  all  the  adven- 
tures that  have  since  befallen  the  chair.  Gilded  it 
was ;  and  the  handsomest  room"  in  the  Province 
House  was  adorned  by  it." 

There  was  not  much  to  interest  the  children  in 
what  happened  during  the  years  that  Governor  Bel« 
cher  remained  in  the  chair.  At  first,  like  Colonel 
Shute  and  Governor  Burnet,  he  was  engaged  in  dis- 
puting with  the  legislature  about  his  salary.  But, 
as  he  found  it  impossible  to  get  a  fixed  sum,  he  finally 


grandfather's  chair.  131 

obtained  the  king's  leave  to  accept  whatever  the  legis- 
la!ure  chose  to  give  him.  And  thus  the  people  tri- 
umphed, after  this  long  contest  for  the  privilege  of 
expending  their  own  money  as  they  saw  fit. 

The  remainder  of  Governor  Belcher's  term  of  office 
was  principally  taken  up  in  endeavoring  to  settle  the 
currency.  Honest  John  Hull's  pine-tree  shillings 
had  long  ago  been  worn  out,  or  lost,  or  melted  down 
again ;  and  their  place  was  supplied  by  bills  of  paper 
or  parchment,  which  were  nominally  valued  at  three- 
pence and  upwards.  The  value  of  these  bills  kept 
continually  sinking,  because  the  real  hard  money  could 
not  be  obtained  for  them.  They  were  a  great  deal 
worse  than  the  old  Indian  currency  of  clam  shells. 
These  disorders  of  the  circulating  medium  were  a 
source  of  endless  plague  and  perplexity  to  the  rulers 
and  legislators,  not  only  in  Governor  Belcher's  days, 
but  for  many  years  before  and  afterwards. 

Finally  the  people  suspected  that  Governor  Bel- 
cher was  secretly  endeavoring  to  establish  the  Episco- 
pal mode  of  worship  in  the  provinces.  There  was 
enough  of  the  old  Puritan  spirit  remaining  to  cause 
most  of  the  true  sons  of  New.  England  to  look  with 
horror  upon  such  an  attempt.  Great  exertions  were 
made  to  induce  the  king  to  remove  the  governor. 
Accordingly _  in  1740,  he  was  compelled  to  resign  his 
office,  and  Gran  lfather's  chair  into  the  bargain,  U 
Mi   Shirley. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

•«  William  Shirley,"  said  Grandfather,  "  had 
come  from  England  a  few  years  before,  and  begun 
to  practise  law  in  Boston.  You  will  think,  perhaps, 
that,  as  he  had  been  a  lawyer,  the  new  governor 
used  to  sit  in  our  great  chair  reading  heavy  law 
books  from  morning  till  night.  On  the  contrary,  he 
was  as  stirring  and  active  a  governor  as  Massachu- 
setts ever  had.  Even  Sir  William  Phipps  hardly 
equalled  him.  The  first  year  or  two  of  his  adminis- 
tration was  spent  in  trying  to  regulate  the  cur- 
rency. But  in  1744,  after  a  peace  of  more  than 
thirty  years,  war  broke  out  between  France  and 
England." 

"  And  I  suppose,"  said  Charley,  "  the  governor 
went  to  take  Canada." 

"  Not  exactly,  Charley,"  said  Grandfather :  "  though 
you  have  made  a  pretty  shrewd  conjecture.  He 
planned,  in  17-15,  an  expedition  against  Louisburg. 
This  was  a  fortified  city,  on  the  Island  of  Cape 
Breton,    neai     Nova     Scotia.       Its    walls    were    of 


grandfather's  chair.  135 

immense  height  and  strength,  and  were  defended  by 
hundreds  of  heavy  cannon.  It  was  the  strongest 
fortress  which  the  French  possessed  in  America  ;  and 
if  the  King  of  France  had  guessed  Governor  Shir- 
ley's intentions,  he  would  have  sent  all  the  ships  he 
could  muster  to  protect  it." 

As  the  siege  of  Louisburg  was  one  of  the  most 
remarkable  events  that  ever  the  inhabitants  of  New 
England  were  engaged  in,  Grandfather  endeavored 
to  give  his  auditors  a  lively  idea  of  the  spirit  with 
which  they  set  about  it.     We  shall  call  his  description 

THE  PROVINCIAL   MUSTER. 

The  expedition  against  Louisburg  first  began  to 
be  thought  of  in  the  month  of  January.  From  that 
time  the  governor's  chair  was  continually  surrounded 
by  councillors,  representatives,  clergymen,  captains, 
pilots,  and  all  manner  of  people,  with  whom  he  con- 
sulted about,  this  wonderful  project. 

First  of  all,  it  was  necessary  to  provide  men  and 
aims.  The  legislature  immediately  sent  out  a  huge 
quantity  of  paper  money,  with  which,  as  if  by  magic 
spell,  the  governor  hoped  to  get  possession  of  all  the 
old  cannon,  powder  and  balls,  rusty  swords  and 
muskets,  and  every  thing  else  that  would  be  service- 
able in  killing  Frenchmen.  Drums  were  beaten  in 
all  the  villages  of  Massachusetts  to  enlist  soldiers  for 


134  GRANDFATHER  S    CHAIR. 

the  seivice.  Messages  were  sent  to  the  other  gov- 
ernors of  New  England,  and  to  New  York  and 
Pennsylvania,  entreating  them  to  unite  in  this  crusade 
against  the  French.  All  these  provinces  agreed  to 
give  what  assistance  they  could. 

But  there  was  one  very  important  thing  to  be 
decided.  Who  shall  be  the  general  of  this  great 
army  ?  Peace  had  continued  such  an  unusual  length 
of  time,  that  there  was  now  less  military  experience 
among  the  colonists  than  at  any  former  period.  The 
old  Puritans  had  always  kept  their  weapons  bright, 
and  were  never  destitute  of  warlike  captains  who 
were  skilful  in  assault  or  defence.  But  the  swords 
of  their  descendants  had  prown  rusty  by  disuse. 
There  was  nobody  in  New  England  that  knew  any 
thing  about  sieges  or  any  other  regular  fighting. 
The  only  persons  at  all  acquainted  with  warlike 
business  were  a  few  elderly  men,  who  had  hunted 
Indians  through  the  underbrush  of  the  forest  in  old 
Governor  Dummer's  war. 

In  this  dilemma  Governor  Shirley  fixed  upon  a 
wealthy  merchant,  named  William  Pepperell,  who 
was  pretty  well  known  and  liked  among  the  people. 
As  to  military  skill,  he  had  no  more  of  it  than  his 
neighbors.  But,  as  the  governor  urged  him  very 
pressingly,  Mr.  Pepperell  consented  to  shut  up  Lis 
keger,  gird  on  a  sword,  and  assume  the  title  of  general. 

Meantime    what    a   hubbub    was    raised    by   this 


GRANDFATHER  S    CHAIR.  135 

scheme  !  Rub-a-dub-dub  !  rub-a-dub-dub  !  The 
rattle  of  drums,  beaten  out  of  all  manner  of  time, 
was  heard  above  every  other  sound. 

Nothing  now  was  so  valuable  as  arms,  of  what- 
ever style  and  fashion  they  might  be.  The  bellows 
blew,  and  the  hammer  clanged  continually  upon  the 
anvil,  while  the  blacksmiths  were  repairing  the 
broken  weapons  of  other  wars.  Doubtless  some  of 
the  soldiers  lugged  out  those  enormous,  heavy  mus- 
kets which  used  to  be  fired,  with  rests,  in  the  time 
of  the  early  Puritans.  Great  horse  pistols,  too,  were 
found,  which  would  go  off  with  a  bang  like  a  cannon. 
Old  cannon,  with  touchholes  almost  as  big  as  their 
muzzles,  were  looked  upon  as  inestimable  treas- 
ures. Pikes  which,  perhaps,  had  been  handled  by 
Miles  Standish's  soldiers,  now  made  their  appearance 
again.  Many  a  young  man  ransacked  the  garret 
and  brought  forth  his  great-grandfather's  sword,  cor- 
roded with  rust  and  stained  with  the  blood  of  King 
Philip's  war. 

Never  had  there  been  such  an  arming  as  this, 
when  a  people,  so  long  peaceful,  rose  to  the  war  with 
the  best  weapons  that  they  could  lay  their  hands 
upon.  And  still  the  drums  were  heard  —  rub-a- 
dub-dub!  rub-a-dub-dub!  —  in  all  the  towns  and  vil- 
lages ;  and  louder  and  more  numerous  grew  the 
trampling  foctsteps  of  the  recruits  that  marched 
behind. 


136  GRANDFATHER  S    CHAIR. 

And  new  the  army  began  to  gather  into  Boston, 
Tall,  lanky,  awkward  fellows  came  in  squads,  and 
companies,  and  regiments,  swaggering  along,  dressed 
in  their  brown  homespun  clothes  and  blue  yam 
stockings.  They  stooped  as  if  they  still  had  hold 
of  the  plough  handles,  and  marched  without  any 
time  or  tune.  Hither  they  came,  from  the  cornfields, 
from  the  clearing  in  the  forest,  from  the  blacksmith's 
forge,  from  the  carpenter's  workshop,  and  from  the 
shoemaker's  seat.  They  were  an  army  of  rough 
faces  and  sturdy  frames.  A  trained  officer  of  Eu- 
rope would  have  laughed  at  them  till  his  sides  had 
ached.  But  there  was  a  spirit  in  their  bosoms  which 
is  more  essential  to  soldiership  than  to  wear  red  coats 
and  march  in  stately  ranks  to  the  sound  of  regular 
music. 

Still  was  heard  the  beat  of  the  drum  —  rub-a-dub- 
dub  !  And  now  a  host  of  three  or  four  thousand 
men  had  found  their  way  to  Boston.  Little  quiet 
was  there  then  !  Forth  scampered  the  schoolboys, 
shouting  behind  the  drums.  The  whole  town,  the 
whole  land,  was  on  fire  with  war. 

After*  the  arrival  of  the  troops,  they  were  probably 
reviewed  upon  the  Common.  We  may  imagine  Gov- 
ernor Shirley  and  General  Pepperell  riding  slowly 
along  the  line,  while  the  drummers  beat  strange  old 
tunes,  like  psalm  tunes,  and  all  the  officers  and  soldiers 
put  on  their  most  warlike  looks.     It  would  have  been 


grandfather's   chair.  187 

i  terribie  sight  for  the  Frenchmen,  could  they  but 
have  witnessed  it ! 

At  length,  on  the  24th  of  March,  1745,  the 
army  gave  a  parting  shout,  and  set  sail  from 
Boston  in  ten  or  twelve  vessels  which  had  been 
hired  by  the  governor.  A  few  days  afterwards  an 
English  fleet,  commanded  by  Commodore  Peter  War- 
ren, sailed  also  for  Louisburg  to  assist  the  provincial 
army.  So  now,  after  all  this  bustle  of  preparation,  the 
town  and  province  were  left  in  stillness  and  repose. 

But  stillness  and  repose,  at  such  a  time  of  anxious 
expectation,  are  hard  to  bear.  The  hearts  of  the  old 
people  and  women  sunk  within  them  when  they  re- 
flected what  perils  they  had  sent  their  sons,  and  hus- 
bands, and  brothers  to  encounter.  The  boys  loitered 
heavily  to  school,  missing  the  rub-a-dub-dub  and  the 
trampling  march,  in  the  rear  of  which  they  had  so 
lately  run  and  shouted.  All  the  ministers  prayed 
earnestly  in  their  pulpits  for  a  blessing  on  the  army 
of  New  England.  In  every  family,  when  the  good  man 
lifted  up  his  heart  in  domestic  worship,  the  burden  of 
his  petition  was  for  the  safety  of  those  dear  ones  who 
were  fighting  under  the  walls  of  Louisburg. 

Governor  Shirley  all  this  time  was  probably  in 
an  ecstasy  of  impatience.  He  could  not  sit  still  a 
moment.  He  found  no  quiet,  not  even  in  Grand- 
father's chair ;  but  hurried  to  and  fro,  and  up  and 
down  the  staircase  of  the  Province  House.     Now  ii* 


138  GRANDFATHER^    CHAIR. 

mounted  to  the  cupola  and  looked  seaward,  straining 
his  eyes  to  discover  if  there  were  a  sail  upon  the 
horizon.  Now  he  hastened  down  the  stairs,  and  stood 
beneath  the  portal,  on  the  red  freestone  steps,  to  re- 
ceive some  mud-bespattered  courier,  from  whom  he 
hoped  to  hear  tidings  of  the  army.  A  few  weeks 
after  the  departure  of  the  troops,  Commodore  "Warren 
sent  a  small  vessel  to  Boston  with  two  French  pris- 
oners. One  of  them  was  Monsieur  Bouladrie,  who 
had  been  commander  of  a  battery  outside  of  the  walls 
of  Louisburg.  The  other  was  the  Marquis  de  la 
Maison  Forte,  captain  of  a  French  frigate  which  had 
been  taken  by  Commodore  "Warren's  fleet.  These 
prisoners  assured  Governor  Shirley  that  the  fortifica- 
tions of  Louisburg  were  far  too  strong  ever  to  be 
stormed  by  the  provincial  army. 

Day  after  day  and  week  after  week  went  on.  The 
people  grew  almost  heartsick  with  anxiety  ;  for  the 
flower  of  the  country  was  at  peril  in  this  adventurous 
expedition.  It  was  now  daybreak  on  the  morning  of 
the  3d  of  July. 

But  hark !  what  sound  is  this  ?  The  hurried 
clang  of  a  bell !  There  is  the  Old  North  pealing 
suddenly  out!  —  there  the  Old  South  strikes  in!  — 
now  the  peal  comes  from  the  church  in  Brattle 
Street !  —  the  bells  of  nine  or  ten  steeples  a  e  all 
flinging  their  iron  voices  at  once  upon  the  morning 
breeze  '     Is   t  joy,  or  alarm  ?    There  goes  the  roar  of 


grahdpaiiier's  ciiaik.  139 

a  cannon,  too !  A  royal  salute  is  thundered  forth. 
And  now  we  hear  the  loud,  exulting  shout  of  a  mul- 
titude assembled  in  the  street.  Huzza !  huzza ! 
Louisburg  has  surrendered  !     Huzza  ! 

"  O  Grandfather,  how  glad  I  should  have  been  to 
live  in  those  times  ! "  cried  Charley.  "  And  what 
reward  did  the  king  give  to  General  Pepperell  and 
Governor  Shirley  ? " 

"  He  made  Pepperell  a  baronet ;  so  that  he  was 
now  to  be  called  Sir  William  Pepperell,"  replied 
Grandfather.  "  He  likewise  appointed  both  Pepperell 
and  Shirley  to  be  colonels  in  the  royal  army.  These 
rewards,  and  higher  ones,  were  well  deserved ;  for 
this  was  the  greatest  triumph  that  the  English  met 
with  in  the  whole  course  of  that  war.  General  Pep- 
perell became  a  man  of  great  fame.  I  have  seen  a 
full-length  portrait  of  him,  representing  him  in  a 
splendid  scarlet  uniform,  standing  before  the  walls 
of  Louisburg,  while  several  bombs  are  falling  through 
the  air." 

"  But  did  the  country  gain  any  real  good  by  the 
conquest  of  Louisburg  ?  "  asked  Laurence.  "  Or  was 
all  the  benefit  reaped  by  Pepperell  and  Shirley  ?  " 

"  The  English  Parliament,"  said  Grandfather, 
"  agreed  to  pay  the  colonists  for  all  the  expenses  of 
the  siege.  Accordingly,  in  1749,  two  hundred  and 
fifteen  chests  of  Spanish  dollars  and   one   hundred 


140  grandfather's  chair. 

casks  of  copper  coin  were  brought  from  England  to 
Boston.  The  whole  amount  was  about  a  million  of 
dollars.  Twenty-seven  carts  and  trucks  carried  thia 
money  from  the  wharf  to  the  provincial  treasury. 
Was  not  this  a  pretty  liberal  reward  ?  " 

"  The  mothers  of  the  young  men  who  were  killed 
at  the  siege  of  Louisburg  would  not  have  thought 
it  so,"  said  Laurence. 

"  No,  Laurence,"  rejoined  Grandfather  ;  ' '  and 
«Tery  warlike  achievement  involves  an  amount  of 
.•jiiysical  and  moral  evil,  for  which  all  the  gold  in  the 
Spanish  mines  would  not  be  the  slightest  recompense. 
But  Ave  are  to  consider  that  this  siege  was  one  of  the 
occasions  on  which  the  colonists  tested  their  ability 
for  war,  and  thus  were  prepared  for  the  great  contest 
of  the  revolution.  In  that  point  of  view,  the  valor 
of  our  forefathers  was  its  own  reward." 

Grandfather  went  on  to  say  that  the  success  of  the 
expedition  against  Louisburg  induced  Shirley  and 
Pepperell  to  form  a  scheme  for  conquering  Canada. 
This  plan,  however,  was  not  carried  into  execution. 

In  ''he  year  1746  great  terror  was  excited  by  the 
arrival  of  a  formidable  French  fleet  upon  the  coast. 
It  was  commanded  by  the  Duke  d'Anville,  and  con- 
sisted of  forty  ships  of  war,  besides  vessels  with  sol- 
diers on  board.  With  this  force  the  French  intended 
to  retake  Louisburg,  and  afterwards  to  ravage  the 
whole  of  New  England.  Many  people  were  ready 
vO  give  up  the  country  for  lost. 


GRANDFATHER  8    CHAIR.  141 

But  the  hostile  fleet  met  with  so  many  disasters 
and  losses  by  storm  and  shipwreck  that  the  Duke 
d'Anville  is  said  to  have  poisoned  himself  in  despair. 
The  officer  next  in  command  threw  himself  upon  his 
sword  and  perished.  Thus  deprived  of  their  com- 
manders, the  remainder  of  the  ships  returned  to 
France.  This  was  as  great  a  deliverance  for  New 
England  as  that  which  Old  England  had  experienced 
in  the  days  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  when  the  Spanish 
Armada  was  wrecked  upon  her  coast. 

"  In  1747,"  proceeded  Grandfather,  "  Governor 
Shirley  was  driven  from  the  Province  House,  not  by 
a  hostile  fleet  and  army,  but  by  a  mob  of  the  Boston 
people.  They  were  so  incensed  at  the  conduct  of  the 
British  Commodore  Knowles,  who  had  impressed 
some  of  their  fellow-citizens,  that  several  thousands 
of  them  surrounded  the  council  chamber  and  threw 
stones  and  brickbats  into  the  windows.  The  gov- 
ernor attempted  to  pacify  them  ;  but  not  succeeding, 
he  thought  it  necessary  to  leave  the  town  and  take 
refuge  within  the  walls  of  Castle  William.  Quiet 
Was  not  restored  until  Commodore  Knowles  had  sent 
back  the  impressed  men.  This  affair  was  a  flash  of 
spirit  that  might  have  warned  the  English  not  to  ven- 
ture upon  any  oppressive  measures  against  their 
colonial  brethren." 

Peace  being  declared  between  France  and  England 
in  1748,  the  governor  had  now  an  opportunity  to  sit 


142  grandfather's  chair, 

at  his  ease  in  Grandfather's  chair.  Such  repose,  how- 
ever, appears  not  to  have  suited  his  disposition ;  for 
in  the  following  year  he  went  to  England,  and  thence 
was  despatched  to  France  on  public  business.  Mean- 
while, as  Shirley  had  not  resigned  his  office,  Lieuten- 
ant Governor  Phipps  acted  as  chief  magistrate  in 
his  stead. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

In  the  early  twilight  of  Thanksgiving  eve  came 
Laurence,  and  Clara,  and  Charley,  and  little  Alice 
hand  in  hand,  and  stood  in  a  semicircle  round  Grand- 
father's chair.  They  had  been  joyous  throughout 
that  day  of  festivity,  mingling  together  in  all  kinds 
of  play,  so  that  the  house  had  echoed  with  their  airy 
mirth. 

Grandfather,  too,  had  been  happy,  though  not 
mirthful.  He  felt  that  this  was  to  be  set  down  as 
one  of  the  good  Thanksgivings  of  his  life.  In  truth, 
all  his  former  Thanksgivings  had  borne  their  part  in 
the  present  one ;  for  his  years  of  infancy,  and  youth, 
and  manhood,  with  their  blessings  and  their  griefs, 
had  flitted  before  him  while  he  sat  silently  in  the 
great  chair.  Vanished  scenes  had  been  pictured  in 
the  air.  The  forms  of  departed  friends  had  visited 
him.  Voices  to  be  heard  no  more  on  earth  had  sent 
an  echo  from  the  infinite  and  the  eternal.  These 
shadows,  if  such  they  were,  seemed  almost  as  real  to 
him   as   what  was   actually  present  —  as  1  he  merry 


144  grandfather's  chair. 

shouts  and  laughter  of  the  children —  as  their  figures, 
dancing  like  sunshine  before  his  eyes. 

He  felt  that  the  past  was  not  taken  from  him. 
The  happiness  of  former  days  was  a  possession  for- 
ever. And  there  was  something  in  the  mingled  sor- 
row of  his  lifetime  that  became  akin  to  happiness, 
after  being  long  treasured  in  the  depths  of  his  heart. 
There  it  underwent  a  change,  and  grew  more  pre- 
cious than  pure  gold. 

And  now  came  the  children,  somewhat  aweary 
with  their  wild  play,  and  sought  the  quiet  enjoyment 
of  Grandfather's  talk.  The  good  old  gentleman 
rubbed  his  eyes  and  smiled  round  upon  them  all.  He 
was  glad,  as  most  aged  people  are,  to  find  that  he 
was  yet  of  consequence  and  could  give  pleasure  to 
the  world.  After  being  so  merry  all  day  long,  did 
these  children  desire  to  hear  his  sober  talk  ?  O, 
then,  old  Grandfather  had  yet  a  place  to  fill  among 
living  men  —  or  at  least  among  boys  and  girls  ! 

"Begin  ouick,  Grandfather,"  cried  little  Alice; 
"  for  pussy  wants  to  hear  you." 

And  truly  our  yellow  friend,  the  cat,  lay  upon  the 
hearth  rug,  basking  in  the  warmth  of  the  fire,  prick- 
ing up  her  ears,  and  turning  her  head  from  the  chil- 
dren to  Grandfather,  and  from  Grandfather  to  the 
children,  as  if  she  felt  herself  very  sympathetic  with 
them  all.  A  loud  pur,  like  the  singing  of  a  tea- 
kettle or  the  hum  of  a  spinning  wheel,  testified  thai 


GRANDFATHER  S    CHAIR.  145 

she  was  as  comfortable  and  happy  as  a  cat  could  be. 
For  puss  had  feasted ;  and  therefore,  like  Grandfather 
and  the  children,  had  kept  a  good  Thanksgiving. 

"  Does  pussy  want  to  hear  me  ? "  said  Grandfather, 
smiling.     "  Well,  we  must  please  pussy,  if  we  can." 

And  so  he  took  up  the  history  of  the  chair  from 
the  epoch  of  the  peace  of  1748.  By  one  of  the  pro- 
visions of  the  treaty,  Louisburg,  wrhich  the  New 
Englanders  had  been  at  so  much  pains  to  take,  was 
restored  to  the  King  of   France. 

The  French  w'ere  afraid  that,  unless  their  colonies 
Bhould  be  better  defended  than  heretofore,  another 
war  might  deprive  them  of  the  whole.  Almost  as 
soon  as  peace  was  declared,  therefore,  they  began  to 
build  strong  fortifications  in  the  interior  of  North 
America.  It  was  strange  to  behold  these  wrarlike 
castles  on  the  banks  of  solitary  lakes,  and  far  in  the 
midst  of  woods.  The  Indian,  paddling  his  birch 
canoe  on  Lake  Champlain,  looked  up  at  the  high 
ramparts  of  Ticonderoga,  stone  piled  on  stone,  bris- 
tling wdth  cannon,  and  the  white  flag  of  France  float- 
ing above.  There  were  similar  fortifications  on  Lake 
Ontario,  and  near  the  great  Falls  of  Niagara,  and  at 
the  sources  of  the  Ohio  River.  And  all  around 
these  forts  and  castles  lay  the  eternal  forest ;  and  the 
roll  of  the  drum  died  away  in  those  deep  solitudes. 

The  truth  was,  that  the  French  intended  to  build 
forts  all  the  way  from  Canada  to  Louisiana.  They 
10 


146  grandfather's  chair. 

would  then  have  had  a  wall  of  military  strength  at 
the  back  of  the  English  settlements  so  as  completely 
to  hen"  them  in.  The  King  of  England  considered 
the  building  of  these  forts  as  a  sufficient  cause  of  war, 
which  was  accordingly  commenced  in  1754. 

"  Governor  Shirley,"  said  Grandfather,  "  had  re- 
turned to  Boston  in  1753.  While  in  Paris  he  had 
married  a  second  wife,  a  young  French  girl,  and  now 
brought  her  to  the  Province  House.  But  when  war 
was  breaking  out  it  was  impossible  for  such  a  bustling 
man  to  stay  quietly  at  home,  sitting  in  our  old  chair, 
with  his  wife  and  children  round  about  him.  He 
therefore  obtained  a  command  in  the  English  forces." 

"  And  what  did  Sir  William  Pepperell  do  ?  "  asked 
Charley. 

"  He  staid  at  home,"  said  Grandfather,  "  and  was 
general  of  the  militia.  The  veteran  regiments  of  the 
English  army  which  were  now  sent  across  the  At- 
lantic would  have  scorned  to  fight  under  the  orders 
of  an  old  American  merchant.  And  now  began 
what  aged  people  call  the  old  French  war.  It  would 
be  going  too  far  astray  from  the  history  of  our  chair  to 
tell  you  one  half  of  the  battles  that  were  fought.  1 
cannot  even  allow  myself  to  describe  the  bloody  de- 
feat of  General  Braddock,  near  the  sources  of  the 
Ohio  River,  in  1755.  But  I  must  not  omit  to  men- 
tion, that  when  the  English  general  was  mortally 
wounded   and  his   army  routed,  the  remains   of    il 


GRANDFATHER'S    CHAIK.  147 

were  preserved  by  the  skill  and  valor  of  George 
Washington." 

At  the  mention  of  this  illustrious  name  the  chil- 
dren started  as  if  a  sudden  sunlight  had  gleamed 
upon  the  history  of  their  country,  now  that  the  great 
deliverer  had  arisen  above  the  horizon. 

Among  all  the  events  of  the  old  French  war, 
Grandfather  thought  that  there  was  none  more  inter- 
esting than  the  removal  of  the  inhabitants  of  Acadia. 
From  the  first  settlement  of  this  ancient  province  of 
the  French,  in  1604,  until  the  present  time,  ics  peo- 
ple could  scarcely  ever  know  what  kingdom  held  do- 
minion over  them.  They  were  a  peaceful  race,  tak- 
ing no  delight  in  warfare,  and  caring  nothing  for 
military  renown.  And  yet,  in  every  war,  their  re- 
gion was  infested  with  iron-hearted  soldiers,  both 
French  and  English,  who  fought  one  another  for  the 
privilege  of  ill  treating  these  poor,  harmless  Acadians. 
Sometimes  the  treaty  of  peace  made  them  subjects 
of  one  king,  sometimes  of  another. 

At  the  peace  of  1748  Acadia  had  been  ceded  to 
England.  But  the  French  still  claimed  a  large  por- 
tion of  it,  and  built  forts  for  its  defence.  In  1755 
these  forts  were  taken,  and  the  whole  of  Acadia  was 
conquered  by  three  thousand  men  from  Massachu- 
setts, under  the  command  of  General  Winslow. 
The  inhabitants  were  accused  of  supplying  the 
French  with  provisions,  and  of  dor  \g  other  things 
that  violated  their  neutrality. 


148  grandfather's  chair. 

"  These  accusations  were  probably  true,"  observed 
Grandfather ;  "  for  the  Acadians  were  descended 
from  the  French,  and  had  the  same  friendly  feelings 
towards  them  that  the  people  of  Massachusetts  had 
for  the  English.  But  their  punishment  was  severe. 
The  English  determined  to  tear  these  poor  people 
from  their  native  homes  and  scatter  them  abroad." 

The  Acadians  were  about  seven  thousand  in  num- 
ber. A  considerable  part  of  them  were  made  prison- 
ers, and  transported  to  the  English  colonies.  All 
their  dwellings  and  churches  were  burned,  their  cattle 
were  killed,  and  the  whole  country  was  laid  waste,  so 
that  none  of  them  might  find  shelter  or  food  in  their 
old  homes  after  the  departure  of  the  English.  One 
thousand  of  the  prisoners  were  sent  to  Massachusetts  ; 
and  Grandfather  allowed  his  fancy  to  follow  them 
thither,  and  tried  to  give  his  auditors  an  idea  of  their 
situation. 

We  shall  call  this  passage  the  story  of 

THE  ACADIAN   EXILES. 

A  sad  day  it  was  for  the  poor  Acadians  when  the 
armed  soldiers  drove  them,  at  the  point  of  the  bayo- 
net,' down  to  the  sea  shore.  Very  sad  were  they 
likewise,  while  tossing  upon  the  ocean  in  the  crowded 
transport  vessels.  But  me  thinks  it  must  have  been 
sadder    still    when   they  were  landed  on   the   Long 


GRANDFATHER  S    CHAIR. 


149 


Whurf,  in  Bosl  on,  and  left  to  themselves  on  a  foreign 
strand. 

Then,  probably,  they  huddled  together  and  looked 
Into  one  another's  faces  for  the  comfort  which  was 
not  there.  Hitherto  they  had  been  confined  on 
board  of  separate  vessels,  so  that  they  could  not  tell 
whether  their  relatives  and  friends  were  prisoners 
along  with  them.  But  now,  at  least,  they  could  tell 
that  many  had  been  left  behind  or  transported  to 
other  regions. 

Now  a  desolate  wife  might  be  heard  calling  for  her 
husband.  He,  alas !  had  gone,  she  knew  not  whither ; 
or  perhaps  had  fled  into  the  woods  of  Acadia,  and 
had  now  returned  to  weep  over  the  ashes  of  their 
dwelling. 

An  aged  widow  was  crying  out  in  a  querulous, 
lamentable  tone  for  her  son,  whose  affectionate  toil 
had  supported  her  for  many  a  year.  He  was  not  in 
the  crowd  of  exiles  ;  and  what  could  this  aged  widow 
do  but  sink  down  and  die  ?  Young  men  and  maid- 
ens, whose  hearts  had  been  torn  asunder  by  separa- 
tion, had  hoped,  during  the  voyage,  to  meet  their 
beloved  ones  at  its  close.  Now  they  began  to  feel 
that  they  were  separated  forever.  And  perhaps  a 
lonesome  little  girl,  a  golden-haired  child  of  five 
years  old,  the  very  picture  of  our  little  Alice,  was 
weeping  and  wailing  for  her  mother,  and  found  not 
a  soul  to  give  her  a  kind  word. 


150  GRANDFATHER'S    CHAIR. 

O,  how  many  broken  bonds  of  affection  were 
here  !  Country  lost  —  friends  lost  —  their  rural 
wealth  of  cottage,  field,  and  herds  all  lost  together 
Every  tie  between  these  poor  exiles  and  the  world 
seemed  to  be  cut  off  at  once.  They  must  have  re- 
gretted that  they  had  not  died  before  their  exile  ;  for 
even  the  English  would  not  have  been  so  pitiless  as 
to  deny  them  graves  in  their  native  soil.  The  dead 
were  happy ;   for  they  were  not  exiles  ! 

While  they  thus  stood  upon  the  wharf,  the  curi- 
osity and  inquisitiveness  of  the  New  England  people 
would  naturally  lead  them  into  the  midst  of  the  poor 
Acadians.  Prying  busybodies  thrust  their  heads  into 
the  circle  wherever  two  or  three  of  the  exiles  were 
conversing  together.  How  puzzled  did  they  look  at 
the  outlandish  sound  of  the  French  tongue  !  There 
were  seen  the  New  England  women,  too.  They  had 
just  come  out  of  their  warm,  safe  homes,  where 
every  thing  was  regular  and  comfortable,  and  where 
their  husbands  and  children  would  be  with  them  at 
nightfall.  Surely  they  could  pity  the  wretched 
wives  and  mothers  of  Acadia !  Or  did  the  sign  of 
the  cross  which  the  Acadians  continually  made  upon 
their  breasts,  and  which  was  abhorred  by  the  descend- 
ants of  the  Puritans,  —  did  that  sign  exclude  all  pity  ? 

Among  the  spectators,  too,  was  the  noisy  brood  of 
Boston  schoolboys,  who  came  running,  with  laughter 
and   shouts,  to  gaze  at  this  crowd  of  oddly- dressed 


grandfather's  chair.  153 

foreigners.  At  first  they  danced  and  capered  around 
them,  full  of  merriment  and  mischief.  But  the  despair 
of  the  Acadians  soon  had  its  effect  upon  these  thought- 
less lads,  and  melted  them  into  tearful  sympathy. 

At  a  little  distance  from  the  throng  might  be  seen 
the  wealthy  and  pompous  merchants  whose  ware- 
houses stood  on  Long  Wharf.  It  was  difficult  to 
touch  these  rich  men's  hearts  ;  for  they  had  all  the 
comforts  of  the  world  at  their  command  ;  and  when 
they  walked  abroad  their  feelings  were  seldom  moved, 
except  by  the  roughness  of  the  pavement  irritating 
their  gouty  toes.  Leaning  upon  their  goldheaded 
canes,  they  watched  the  scene  with  an  aspect  of  com- 
posure. But  let  us  hope  they  distributed  some  of 
iheir  superfluous  coin  among  these  hapless  exiles  to 
purchase  food  and  a  night's  lodging. 

After  standing  a  long  time  at  the  end  of  the  wharf, 
gazing  seaward,  as  if  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  their  lost 
Acadia,  the  strangers  began  to  stray  into  the  town. 

They  went,  we  will  suppose,  in  parties  and  groups, 
here  a  hundred,  there  a  score,  there  ten,  there  three  01 
four,  who  possessed  some  bond  of  unity  among  them- 
selves. Here  and  there  was  one,  who,  utterly  desolate, 
stole  away  by  himself,  seeking  no  companionship. 

Whither  did  they  go  ?  I  imagine  them  wander- 
ing about  the  streets,  telling  the  townspeople,  in 
outlandish,  unintelligible  words,  that  no  earthly  af» 
fliction  ever  equalled  what  had  befallen  them.  Man's 
brotherhood  with   man  was    sufficient  to  make   the 


152  grandfather's  chair. 

New  Englanders  understand  this  language.  The 
strangers  wanted  food.  Some  of  them  sought  hos- 
pitality at  the  doors  of  the  stately  mansions  which 
then  stood  in  the  vicinity  of  Hanover  Street  and  the 
North  Square.  Others  were  applicants  at  the  humhle 
wooden  tenements,  where  dwelt  the  petty  shopkeep- 
ers and  mechanics.  Pray  Heaven  that  no  family  in 
Boston  turned  one  of  these  poor  exiles  from  their 
door !  It  would  be  a  reproach  upon  New  England 
—  a  crime  worthy  of  heavy  retribution  —  if  the 
aged  women  and  children,  or  even  the  strong  men, 
were  allowed  to  feel  the  pinch  of  hunger. 

Perhaps  some  of  the  Acadians,  in  their  aimless 
wanderings  through  the  town,  found  themselves  near 
a  large  brick  edifice,  which  was  fenced  in  from  the 
street  by  an  iron  railing,  wrought  with  fantastic  fig- 
ures. They  saw  a  flight  of  red  freestone  steps  as- 
cending to  a  portal,  above  which  was  a  balcony  and 
balustrade.  Misery  and  desolation  give  men  the 
right  of  free  passage  every  where.  Let  us  suppose, 
then,  that  they  mounted  the  flight  of  steps  and  passed 
into  the  Province  House.  Making  their  way  into  one 
of  the  apartments,  they  beheld  a  richly- clad  gentle- 
man, seated  in  a  stately  chair,  with  gilding  upon  the 
carved  work  of  its  back,  and  a  gilded  lion's  head  at 
the  summit.  This  was  Governor  Shirley,  meditating 
upon  matters  of  war  and  state,  in  Grandfather's  chair  J 

If  such  an  incident  did  happen,  Shirley,  reflecting 
what  a  ruin  of  peaceful  and  humble  hopes  had  been 


grandfather's  chair.  155 

wrought  by  the  cold  policy  of  the  statesman  and  the 
iron  hand  of  the  warrior,  might  have  drawn  a  deep 
moral  from  it  It  should  have  taught  him  that  the  poor 
man's  hearth  is  sacred,  and  that  armies  and  nations 
have  no  right  to  violate  it.  It  should  have  made  him 
feel  that  England's  triumph  and  increased  dominion 
could  not  compensate  to  mankind  nor  atone  to  Heaven 
for  the  ashes  of  a  single  Acadian  cottage.  But  it  is 
not  thus  that  statesmen  and  warriors  moralize. 

"  Grandfather,"  cried  Laurence,  with  emotior 
trembling  in  his  voice,  "  did  iron-hearted  War  itself 
ever  do  so  hard  and  cruel  a  thing  as  this  before  ?  " 

"  You  have  read  in  history,  Laurence,  of  whole 
regions  wantonly  laid  waste,"  said  Grandfather.  "  In 
the  removal  of  the  Acadians,  the  troops  were  guilty 
of  no  cruelty  or  outrage,  except  what  was  inseparable 
from  the  measure." 

Little  Alice,  whose  eyes  had  all  along  been  brimming 
full  of  tears,  now  burst  forth  a-sobbing ;  for  Grandfathei 
had  touched  her  sympathies  more  than  he  intended. 

"  To  think  of  a  whole  people  homeless  in  the 
■world!"  said  Clara,  with  moistened  eyes.  ''There 
never  was  any  thing  so  sad !  " 

"  It  was  their  own  fault !  "  cried  Charley,  energeti- 
cally. "  Why  did  not  they  fight  for  the  country 
where  they  were  born  ?  Then,  if  the  worst  had  hap- 
pened to  them,  they  could  only  have  been  killed  and 
buried  there.    They  would  not  have  been  exiles  then." 

"  Certainly  their  lot  was  as  hard  as  death,"  said 


154  grandfather's  chair 

Grandfather.  "  All  that  could  be  done  for  them  in 
the  English  provinces  was,  to  send  them  to  the  alms- 
houses, or  bind  them  out  to  taskmasters.  And  this 
was  the  fate  of  persons  who  had  possessed  a  com- 
fortable property  in  their  native  country.  Some  of 
them  found  means  to  embark  for  France  ;  but  though 
it  was  :ho.  land  of  their  forefathers,  it  must  have  been 
a  foreign  land  to  them.  Those  who  remained  behind 
always  cherished  a  belief  that  the  King  of  France  would 
never  make  peace  with  England  till  his  poor  Acadians 
were  restored  to  their  country  and  their  homes." 

"  And  did  he  ?  "  inquired  Clara. 

•'Alas  !  my  dear  Clara,"  said  Grandfather,  "it  is  im- 
probable that  the  slightest  whisper  of  the  woes  of  Aca- 
dia ever  reached  the  ears  of  Louis  XV.  The  exiles 
grew  old  in  the  British  provinces,  and  never  saw  Aca- 
dia again.  Their  descendants  remain  among  us  to 
this  day.  They  have  forgotten  the  language  of  their 
ancestors,  and  probably  retain  no  tradition  of  their  mis- 
fortunes. But,  methinks,  if  I  were  an  American  poet, 
I  would  choose  Acadia  for  the  subject  of  my  song." 

Since  Grandfather  first  spoke  these  words,  the  most 
famous  of  American  poets  has  drawn  sweet  tears  from 
all  of  us  by  his  beautiful  poem  of  Evangeline. 

And  now,  having  thrown  a  gentle  gloom  around 
the  Thanksgiving  fireside  by  a  story  that  made  the 
children  feel  the  blessing  of  a  secure  and  peaceful 
hearth,  Grandfather  put  off  the  other  events  of  the 
old  French  war  till  the  next  evening. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

In  the  twilight  of  the  succeeding  eve,  when  the 
red  beams  of  the  fire  were  dancing  upon  the  wall, 
the  children  besought  Grandfather  to  tell  them  what 
had  next  happened  to  the  old  chair. 

"  Our  chair,"  said  Grandfather,  "  stood  all  this  time 
in  the  Province  House.  But  Governor  Shirley  had 
6eldom  an  opportunity  to  repose  within  its  arms.  He 
was  leading  his  troops  through  the  forest,  or  sailing 
in  a  flat  boat  on  Lake  Ontario,  or  sleeping  in  his  tent, 
while  the  awful  cataract  of  Niagara  sent  its  roar 
through  his  dreams.  At  one  period,  in  the  early 
part  of  the  war,  Shirley  had  the  chief  command  of 
all  the  king's  forces  in  America." 

"  Did  his  young  wife  go  with  him  to  the  war  ? ' 
asked  Clara. 

"  I  rather  imagine,"  replied  Grandfather,  "  that 
she  remained  in  Boston.  This  lady,  I  suppose,  had 
our  chair  all  to  herself,  and  used  to  sit  in  it  during 
those  brief  intervals  when  a  young  Frenchwoman 
can  be  quiet  enough  to  sit  in  a  chair.     The  people 

flW) 


156  grandfather's  chaik. 

of  Massachusetts  were  never  fond  of  Governor  Shir 
ley's  young  French  wife.     They  had  a  suspicion  that 
she  betrayed  the  military  plans  of  the  English  to  the 
generals  of  the  French  armies." 

"  And  was  it  true  ?  "  inquired  Clara. 

"  Probably  not,"  said  Grandfather.  "  But  the 
mere  suspicion  did  Shirley  a  great  deal  of  harm. 
Partly,  perhaps,  for  this  reason,  but  much  more  on 
account  of  his  inefficiency  as  a  general,  he  was  deprived 
of  his  command  in  1756,  and  recalled  to  England. 
He  never  afterwards  made  any  figure  in  public  life." 

As  Grandfather's  chair  had  no  locomotive  proper- 
ties, and  did  not  even  run  on  castors,  it  cannot  be 
supposed  to  have  marched  in  person  to  the  old  French 
war.  But  Grandfather  delayed  its  momentous  his- 
tory while  he  touched  briefly  upon  some  of  the  bloody 
battles,  sieges,  and  onslaughts,  the  tidings  of  "which 
kept  continually  coming  to  the  ears  of  the  old  inhab- 
itants of  Boston.  The  woods  of  the  north  were 
populous  with  fighting  men.  All  the  Indian  tribes 
uplifted  their  tomahawks,  and  took  part  either  with 
the  French  or  English.  The  rattle  of  musketry  and 
roar  of  cannon  disturbed  the  ancient  quiet  of  the 
forest,  and  actually  drove  the  bears  and  other  wild 
beasts  to  the  more  cultivated  portion  of  the  country 
in  the  vicinity  of  the  seaports.  The  children  felt  as 
if  they  were  transported  back  to  those  forgotten  times, 
and  that  the  couriers  from  the  army,  with  the  news 


grandfather's  chair.  i5T 

of  a  battle  lost  or  won,  might  even  now  be  heard 
galloping  through  the  streets.  Grandfather  told  them 
about  the  battle  of  Lake  George  in  1755,  when  the 
gallant  Colonel  Williams,  a  Massachusetts  officer,  was 
slain,  with  many  of  his  countrymen.  But  General 
J  ohnson  and  General  Lyman,  with  their  army,  drove 
back  the  enemy  and  mortally  wounded  the  French 
leader,  who  was  called  the  Baron  Dieskau.  A  gold 
watch,  pilfered  from  the  poor  baron,  is  still  in  exist- 
ence, and  still  marks  each  moment  of  time  without 
complaining  of  weariness,  although  its  hands  have 
been  in  motion  ever  since  the  hour  of  battle. 

In  the  first  years  of  the  war  there  were  many 
disasters  on  the  English  side.  Among  these  was  the 
loss  of  Fort  Oswego  in  1756,  and  of  Fort  William 
Henry  in  the  following  year.  But  the  greatest  mis- 
fortune that  befell  the  English  during  the  whole 
war  was  the  repulse  of  General  Abercrombie,  with 
his  army,  from  the  ramparts  of  Ticonderoga  in  1758. 
He  attempted  to  storm  the  walls  ;  but  a  terrible  con- 
flict ensued,  in  which  more  than  two  thousand  Eng- 
lishmen and  New  Englanders  were  killed  or  wounded. 
The  slain  soldiers  now  lie  buried  around  that  ancient 
fortress.  When  the  plough  passes  over  the  soil,  it 
turns  up  here  and  there  a  mouldering  bone. 

Up  to  this  period,  none  of  the  English  generals 
bad  shown  any  military  talent.  Slurley,  the  Earl  of 
Loudon,  and   General   Abercrombie   had  each    held 


158  grandfather's  chair. 

the  chief  command  at  different  times ;  but  not  one 
of  them  had  won  a  single  important  triumph  for  the 
British  arms.  This  ill  success  was  not  owing  to  the 
want  of  means  ;  for,  in  1758,  General  Abercromhie 
had  fifty  thousand  soldiers  under  his  command.  But 
the  French  general,  the  famous  Marquis  de  Mont- 
calm, possessed  a  great  genius  for  war,  and  had 
something  within  him  that  taught  him  how  battles 
were  to  be  won. 

At  length,  in  1759,  Sir  Jeffrey  Amherst  was  ap- 
pointed commander-in-chief  of  all  the  British  forces 
in  America.  He  was  a  man  of  ability  and  a  skilful 
soldier.  A  plan  was  now  formed  for  accomplishing 
that  object  which  had  so  long  been  the  darling  wish 
of  the  New  England ers,  and  which  their  fathers  had 
so  many  times  attempted.  This  was  the  conquest 
of  Canada. 

Three  separate  armies  were  to  enter  Canada  from 
different  quarters.  One  of  the  three,  commanded  by 
General  Prideaux,  was  to  embark  on  Lake  Ontario 
and  proceed  to  Montreal.  The  second,  at  the  head 
of  which  was  Sir  Jeffrey  Amherst  himself,  was  des- 
tined to  reach  the  River  St.  Lawrence,  by  the  way 
of  Lake  Champlain,  and  then  go  down  the  river  to 
meet  the  third  army.  This  last,  led  by  General 
Wolfe,  was  to  enter  the  St.  Lawrence  from  the  sea 
and  ascend  the  river  to  Quebec.  It  is  to  "Wolfe  and 
his  army  that  England  owes  one  of  the  most  splendid 
triumphs  ever  written  in  her  history. 


grandfather's  chair.  159 

Grandfather  described  the  siege  of  Quebec^,  and 
told  how  Wolfe  led  his  soldiers  up  a  rugged  and 
lofty  precipice,  that  rose  from  the  shore  of  the  river 
to  the  plain  on  which  the  city  stood.  This  bold  ad- 
venture was  achieved  in  the  darkness  of  night.  At 
daybreak  tidings  were  carried  to  the  Marquis  do 
Montcalm  that  the  English  army  was  waiting  to  givts 
him  battle  on  the  plains  of  Abraham.  This  brave 
French  general  ordered  his  drums  to  strike  up,  and 
immediately  marched  to  encounter  Wolfe. 

He  marched  to  his  own  death.  The  battle  wau 
the  most  fierce  and  terrible  that  had  ever  been  fought 
in  America.  General  Wolfe  was  at  the  head  of  his 
soldiers,  and,  while  encouraging  them  onward,  received 
a  mortal  wound.  He  reclined  against  a  stone  in  the 
agonies  of  death  ;  but  it  seemed  as  if  his  spirit  could 
not  pass  away  while  the  fight  yet  raged  so  doubtfully. 
Suddenly  a  shout  came  pealing  across  the  battle  field 
— "  They  flee !  they  flee  !  "  and,  for  a  moment, 
Wolfe  lifted  his  languid  head.  "  Who  flee  ?  "  he 
inquired.  "  The  French,"  replied  an  officer.  "  Then 
I  die  satisfied !  "  said  Wolfe,  and  expired  in  the 
arms  of  victory. 

"  If  ever  a  warrior's  death  were  glorious,  Wolfe's 
was  so,"  said  Grandfather  ;  and  his  eye  kindled,  though 
he  was  a  man  of  peaceful  thoughts  and  gentle  spirit. 
"  His  lifeblood  streamed  to  baptize  the  soil  which 
he   had    added    to    the   dominion    of   Britain.      His 


160  grandfather's  chair. 

dying  breath  was  mingled  with  his  army's  shout 
of  victory." 

"  O,  it  was  a  good  death  to  die  !  "  cried  Charley, 
w  ith  glistening  eyes.  "  Was  it  not  a  good  death, 
Laurence  ?  " 

Laurence  made  no  reply ;  for  his  heart  burned 
within  him,  as  the  picture  of  Wolfe,  dying  on  the 
blood-stained  field  of  victory,  arose  to  his  imagina- 
tion ;  and  yet  he  had  a  deep  inward  consciousness 
that,  after  all,  there  was  a  truer  glory  than  could  thus 
be  won. 

"  There  were  other  battles  in  Canada  after  Wolfe's 
victory,"  resumed  Grandfather  ;  "  but  we  may  con- 
sider the  old  French  war  as  having  terminated  with 
this  great  event.  The  treaty  of  peace,  however,  was 
not  signed  until  1763.  The  terms  of  the  treaty  were 
very  disadvantageous  to  the  French  ;  for  all  Canada, 
and  all  Acadia,  and  the  Island  of  Cape  Breton,  —  in 
short,  all  the  territories  that  France  and  England  had 
been  fighting  about  for  nearly  a  hundred  years, — 
were  surrendered  to  the  English." 

"  So  now,  at  last,"  said  Laurence,  "  New  England 
had  gained  her  wish.     Canada  was  taken." 

"  And  now  there  was  nobody  to  fight  with  but  the 
Indians,"  said  Charley. 

Grandfather  mentioned  two  other  important  events. 
The  first  was  the  great  fire  of  Boston  in  1760,  when 
the  glare  from  nearly  three  hundred  buildings,  all  ia 


grandfather's  chair.  161 

flames  at  once,  shone  through  the  windows,  of  the 
Province  House,  and  threw  a  fierce  lustre  upon  the 
gilded  foliage  and  lion's  head  of  our  old  chair  The 
second  event  was  the  proclamation,  in  the  same  year, 
of  George  III.  as  King  of  Great  Britain.  The  blast 
of  the  trumpet  sounded  from  the  balcony  of  the 
Town  House,  and  awoke  the  echoes  far  and  wide,  as 
if  to  challenge  all  mankind  to  dispute  King  George's 
title. 

Seven  times,  as  the  successive  monarchs  of  Britain 
ascended  the  throne,  the  trumpet  peal  of  proclama- 
tion had  been  heard  by  those  who  sat  in  our  venerable 
chair.  But  when  the  next  king  put  on  his  father's 
crown,  no  trumpet  peal  proclaimed  it  to  New  Eng- 
land. Long  before  that  day  America  had  shaken 
aff  the  royal  government. 
11 


CHATTER   X. 

Now  that  Grandfather  had  fought  through  the  old 
French  war,  in  which  our  chair  made  no  very  dis- 
tinguished figure,  he  thought  it  high  time  to  tell 
the  children  some  of  the  more  private  history  of  that 
praiseworthy  old  piece  of  furniture. 

"  In  1757,"  said  Grandfather,  "  after  Shirley  had 
been  summoned  to  England,  Thomas  Pownall  was 
appointed  governor  of  Massachusetts.  He  was  a 
gay  and  fashionable  English  gentleman,  who  had 
spent  much  of  his  life  in  London,  but  had  a  consid- 
erable acquaintance  with  America.  The  new  gov- 
ernor appears  to  have  taken  no  active  part  in  the  war 
that  was  going  on  ;  although,  at  one  period,  he  talked 
of  marching  against  the  enemy  at  the  head  of  his 
company  of  cadets.  But,  on  the  whole,  he  prob- 
ably concluded  that  it  was  more  befitting  a  governor 
to  remain  quietly  in  our  chair,  reading  the  newspa- 
pers and  official  documents." 

"  Did  the  people  like  Pownall  ?  "  asked  Charley. 

"  They  found  no  fault  with  him,"  replied  Grand- 


grandfather's  chair.  163 

father.  "  It  was  no  time  to  quarrel  with  the  gov- 
ernor when  the  utmost  harmony  was  required  in 
order  to  defend  the  country  against  the  French. 
But  Pownall  did  not  remain  long  in  Massachusetts. 
In  1759  he  was  sent  to  be  governor  of  South  Caroli- 
na. In  thus  exchanging  one  government  for  another, 
I  suppose  he  felt  no  regret,  except  at  the  necessity 
of  leaving  Grandfather's  chair  behind  him." 

"  He  might  have  taken  it  to  South  Carolina," 
observed  Clara. 

"  It  appears  to  me,"  said  Laurence,  giving  the 
rein  to  his  fancy,  "  that  the  fate  of  this  ancient  chair 
was,  somehow  or  other,  mysteriously  connected  with 
the  fortunes  of  old  Massachusetts.  If  Governor 
Pownall  had  put  it  aboard  the  vessel  in  which  he 
sailed  for  South  Carolina,  she  would  probably  have 
lain  windbound  in  Boston  Harbor.  It  was  ordained 
that  the  chair  should  not  be  taken  away.  Don't  you 
think  so,  Grandfather  ?  " 

"  It  was  kept  here  for  Grandfather  and  me  to  sit 
in  together,"  said  little  Alice,  "  and  for  Grandfather 
to  tell  stories  about." 

"  And  Grandfather  is  very  glad  of  such  a  compan- 
ion and  such  a  theme,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  with 
a  smile.  "  "Well,  Laurence,  if  our  oaken  chair,  like 
the  wooden  palladium  of  Troy,  was  connected  with 
the  country's  fate,  yet  there  appears  to  have  been  no 
supernatural  obstacle  to  its  removal  from  the  Province 


164  grandfather's  chair. 

House.  In  1760  Sir  Francis  Bernard,  who  had 
been  governor  of  New  Jersey,  was  appointed  to  the 
same  office  in  Massachusetts.  He  looked  at  the  old 
chair,  and  thought  it  quite  too  shabby  to  keep  com- 
pany with  a  new  set  of  mahogany  chairs  and  an  aristo- 
cratic sofa  which  had  just  arrived  from  London.  He 
therefore  ordered  it  to  be  put  away  in  the  garret." 

The  children  were  loud  in  their  exclamations 
against  this  irreverent  conduct  of  Sir  Francis  Ber- 
nard. But  Grandfather  defended  him  as  well  as  he 
could.  He  observed  that  it  was  then  thirty  years 
since  the  chair  had  been  beautified  by  Governor 
Belcher.  Most  of  the  gilding  was  worn  off  by  the 
frequent  scourings  which  it  had  undergone  beneath 
the  hands  of  a  black  slave.  The  damask  cushion, 
once  so  splendid,  was  now  squeezed  out  of  all  shape, 
and  absolutely  in  tatters,  so  many  were  the  ponderous 
gentlemen  who  had  deposited  their  weight  upon  it 
during  these  thirty  years. 

Moreover,  at  a  council  held  by  the  Earl  of  Lou- 
don with  the  governors  of  New  England  in  1757, 
his  lordship,  in  a  moment  of  passion,  had  kicked  over 
the  chair  with  his  military  boot.  By  this  unpro- 
voked and  unjustifiable  act,  our  venerable  friend  had 
suffered  a  fracture  of  one  of  its  rungs. 

"  But,"  said  Grandfather,  "  our  chair,  after  all, 
was  not  destined  to  spend  the  remainder  of  its  days 
in    the    inglorious    obscurity  of    a  garret.     Thomas 


grandfather's  chair.  165 

Hutchinson,  lieutenant  governor  of  the  province, 
was  told  of  Sir  Francis  Bernard's  design.  This  gen- 
flmian  was  more  familiar  with  the  history  of  New 
JLigland  than  any  other  man  alive.  He  kneAr  all  the 
adventures  and  vicissitudes  through  which  the  old 
chair  had  passed,  and  could  have  told  as  accurately  as 
your  own  Grandfather  who  were  the  personages  that 
had  occupied  it.  Often,  while  visiting  at  the  Prov- 
ince House,  he  had  eyed  the  chair  with  admiration, 
and  felt  a  longing  desire  to  become  the  possessor  of 
it.  He  now  waited  upon  Sir  Francis  Bernard,  and 
easily  obtained  leave  to  carry  it  home." 

"  And  I  hope,"  said  Clara,  "  he  had  it  varnished 
and  gilded  anew." 

"  No,"  answered  Grandfather.  "  What  Mr.  Hutch- 
inson desired  was,  to  restore  the  chair  as  much  as  pos- 
sible to  its  original  aspect,  such  as  it  had  appeared 
when  it  was  first  made  out  of  the  Earl  of  Lincoln's 
oak  tree.  For  this  purpose  he  ordered  it  to  be  well 
scoured  with  soap  and  sand  and  polished  with  wax, 
and  then  provided  it  with  a  substantial  leather  cushion. 
When  all  was  completed  to  his  mind,  he  sat  down  in 
the  old  chair,  and  began  to  write  his  History  of  Mas- 
sachusetts." 

"  O,  that  was  a  bright  thought  in  Mr.  Hutchin- 
Bon  ! "  exclaimed  Laurence.  "  And  no  doubt  the 
dim  figures  of  the  former  possessors  of  the  chair  flit- 
ted around  him  as  he  wrote,  and  inspired  him  with 


166  grandfather's  chair. 

a  knowledge  of  all  that  they  had  done  and  suffered 
while  on  earth." 

"  Why,  my  dear  Laurence,"  replied  Grandfather, 
smiling,  "  if  Mr.  Hutchinson  was  favored  with  any 
such  extraordinary  inspiration,  he  made  but  a  poor 
use  of  it  in  his  history ;  for  a  duller  piece  of  compo- 
sition never  came  from  any  man's  pen.  However, 
he  was  accurate,  at  least,  though  far  from  possessing 
the  brilliancy  or  philosophy  of  Mr.  Bancroft." 

"  But  if  Hutchinson  knew  the  history  of  the 
chair,"  rejoined  Laurence,  "  his  heart  must  have 
been  stirred  by  it." 

"  It  must,  indeed,"  said  Grandfather.  "  It  would 
be  entertaining  and  instructive,  at  the  present  day,  to 
imagine  what  were  Mr.  Hutchinson's  thoughts  as  he 
looked  back  upon  the  long  vista  of  events  with  which 
this  chair  was  so  remarkably  connected." 

And  Grandfather  allowed  his  fancy  to  shape  out 
an  image  of  Lieutenant  Governor  Hutchinson,  sitting 
in  an  evening  revery  by  his  fireside,  and  meditating 
on  the  changes  that  had  slowly  passed  around  the 
chair. 

A  devoted  monarchist,  Hutchinson  would  heave  no 
sigh  for  the  subversion  of  the  original  republican 
government,  the  purest  that  the  world  had  seen,  with 
which  the  colony  began  its  existence.  While  rever- 
encing the  grim  and  stern  old  Puritans  as  the  found- 
ers of  his  native  land,  he  would  not  wish  to  recali 


grandfather's  chair.  167 

them  from  their  graves,  nor  to  awaken  again  that 
king-resibting  spirit  which  he  imagined  to  be  laid 
asleep  with  them  forever.  Winthrop,  Dudley,  Bel- 
lingham,  Endicott,  Leverett,  and  Bradstreet,  —  all 
these  had  had  their  day.  Ages  might  come  and  go ; 
but  never  again  would  the  people's  suffrages  place  i 
republican  governor  in  their  ancient  chair  of  state. 

Coming  down  to  the  epoch  of  the  second  charter, 
Hutchinson  thought  of  the  ship  carpenter  Phipps, 
springing  from  the  lowest  of  the  people  and  attain- 
ing to  the  loftiest  station  in  the  land.  But  he  smiled 
to  perceive  that  this  governor's  example  would 
awaken  no  turbulent  ambition  in  the  lower  orders ; 
for  it  was  a  king's  gracious  boon  alone  that  made  the 
ship  carpenter  a  ruler.  Hutchinson  rejoiced  to  mark 
the  gradual  growth  of  an  aristocratic  class,  to  whom 
the  common  people,  as  in  duty  bound,  were  learning 
humbly  to  resign  the  honors,  emoluments,  and  au- 
thority of  state.  He  saw  —  or  else  deceived  himself 
—  that,  throughout  this  epoch,  the  people's  disposi- 
tion to  self  government  had  been  growing  weaker 
through  long  disuse,  and  now  existed  only  as  a  faint 
traditionary  feeling. 

The  lieutenant  governor's  revery  had  now  come 
down  to  the  period  at  which  he  himself  was  sitting 
in  the  historic  chair.  He  endeavored  to  throw  his 
glance  forward  over  the  coming  years.  There,  prob- 
ably, he  saw  visions  of  hereditary  rank  for  himself 


168  grandfather's  chair. 

and  other  aristocratic  colonists.  He  saw  the  fertile 
fields  of  New  England  proportioned  out  among  a 
few  great  landholders,  and  descending  by  entail  from 
generation  to  generation.  He  saw  the  people  a  race 
of  tenantry,  dependent  on  their  lords.  He  saw  stars, 
garters,  coronets,  and  castles. 

"  But,"  added  Grandfather,  turning  to  Laurence, 
"  the  lieutenant  governor's  castles  were  built  no- 
where but  among  the  red  embers  of  the  fire  before 
which  he  was  sitting,  .And,  just  as  he  had  con- 
structed a  baronial  residence  for  himself  and  his  pos- 
terity, the  fire  rolled  down  upon  the  hearth  and 
crumbled  it  to  ashes  !  " 

Grandfather  now  looked  at  his  watch,  which  hung 
within  a  beautiful  little  ebony  temple,  supported  by 
four  Ionic  columns.  He  then  laid  his  hand  on  the 
golden  locks  of  little  Alice,  whose  head  had  sunk 
down  upon  the  arm  of   our  illustrious   chair. 

"  To  bed,  to  bed,  dear  child  !  "  said  he.  "  Grand- 
father nas  put  you  to  sleep  already  by  his  stories 
about  these  famous  old  people." 


GRANDFATHER'S    CHAIR 


PART    III. 

CHAPTER   I. 


Ojn  the  evening  of  New  Year's  day  Grandfather  was 
walking  to  and  fro  across  the  carpet,  listening  to  the 
rain  which  beat  hard  against  the  curtained  windows. 
The  riotous  blast  shook  the  casement  as  if  a  strong 
man  were  striving  to  force  his  entrance  into  the  com- 
fortable room.  With  every  puff  of  the  wind  the 
fire  leaped  upward  from  the  hearth,  laughing  and 
rejoicing  at  the  shrieks  of  the  •wintry  storm. 

Meanwhile  Grandfather's  chair  stood  in  its  cus- 
tomary place  by  the  fireside.  The  bright  blaze  gleamed 
upon  the  fantastic  figures  of  its  oaken  back,  and  shone 
through  the  open  work,  so  that  a  complete  pattern 
was  thrown  upon  the  opposite  side  of  the  room. 
Sometimes,  for  a  moment  or  two,  the  shadow  remained 

(169) 


170  GRANDFATHERS    CHAIR. 

immovable,  as  if  it  were  painted  on  the  wall.  Then 
all  at  once  it  began  to  quiver,  and  leap,  and  dance 
with  a  frisky  motion.  Anon,  seeming  to  remember 
that  these  antics  were  unworthy  of  such  a  dignified 
and  venerable  chair,  it  suddenly  stood  still.  But 
eoon  it  began  to  dance  anew. 

"  Only  see  how  Grandfather's  chair  is  dancing  ! " 
cried  little  Alice. 

And  she  ran  to  the  wall  and  tried  to  catch  hold 
of  the  flickering  shadow ;  for,  to  children  of  five  years 
old,  a  shadow  seems  almost  as  real  as  a  substance. 

"I  wish,"  said  Clara,  "Grandfather  would  sit 
down  in  the  chair  and  finish  its  history." 

If  the  children  had  been  looking  at  Grandfather, 
they  would  have  noticed  that  he  paused  in  his  walk 
across  the  room  when  Clara  made  this  remark.  The 
kind  old  gentleman  was  ready  and  willing  to  resume 
his  stories  of  departed  times.  But  he  had  resolved 
to  wait  till  his  auditors  should  request  him  to  pro- 
ceed, in  order  that  they  might  find  the  instructive 
history  of  the  chair  a  pleasure,  and  not  a  task. 

"  Grandfathex*,"  said  Charley,  "  I  am  tired  to  death 
of  this  dismal  rain  and  of  hearing  the  wind  roar  in 
the  chimney.  I  have  had  no  good  time  all  day.  It 
would  be  better  to  hear  stories  about  the  chair  than 
•„o  sit  doing  nothing  and  thinking  of  nothing." 

To  say  the  truth,  our  friend  Charley  was  very 
*«*uch  out  of  humor  with  the  storm,  because  it  had 


QUA  NDFATHER'S    CHAIR.  171 

kept  him  all  day  within  doors,  and  hindered  him  from 
making  a  trial  of  a  splendid  sled,  which  Grandfather 
had  given  him  for  a  New  Year's  gift.  As  all  sleds, 
nowadays,  must  have  a  name,  the  one  in  question 
had  been  honored  with  the  title  of  Grandfather's 
Chair,  which  was  painted  in  golden  letters  on  each 
of  the  sides.  Charley  greatly  admired  the  construc- 
tion of  the  new  vehicle,  and  felt  certain  that  it  would 
outstrip  any  other  sled  that  ever  dashed  adown  the 
long  slopes  of  the  Common. 

As  for  Laurence,  he  happened  to  be  thinking,  just 
at  this  moment,  about  the  history  of  the  chair.  Kind 
old  Grandfather  had  made  him  a  present  of  a  volume 
of  engraved  portraits,  representing  the  features  of 
eminent  and  famous  people  of  all  countries.  Among 
them  Laurence  found  several  who  had  formerly  occu- 
pied our  chair  or  been  connected  with  its  adventures 
While  Grandfather  walked  to  and  fro  across  the  room, 
the  imaginative  boy  was  gazing  at  the  historic  chair. 
He  endeavored  to  summon  up  the  portraits  which  he 
had  seen  in  his  volume,  and  to  place  them,  like  living 
figures,  in  the  empty  seat. 

"  The  old  chair  has  begun  another  year  of  its 
existence,  to-day,"  said  Laurence.  "  We  must  make 
haste,  or  it  will  have  a  new  history  to  be  told  before 
we  finish  the  old  one." 

"  Yes,  my  children,"  replied  Grandfather,  with  a 
smile  and  a  sigh,  "  another  year  has  been  added  to 


172  grandfather's  chair. 

those  of  the  two  centuries  and  upward  which  ha^e 
passed  since  the  Lady  Arbella  brought  this  chair  over 
from  England.  It  is  three  times  as  old  as  your 
Grandfather  ;  but  a  year  makes  no  impression  on  its 
oaken  frame,  while  it  bends  the  old  man  nearer  and 
nearer  to  the  earth  ;  so  let  me  go  on  with  my  stories 
while  I  may." 

Accordingly  Grandfather  came  to  the  fireside  and 
seated  himself  in  the  venerable  chair.  The  lion's 
head  looked  down  with  a  grimly  good-natured  aspect 
as  the  children  clustered  around  the  old  gentleman's 
knees.  It  almost  seemed  as  if  a  real  lion  were  peep- 
ing over  the  back  of  the  chair,  and  smiling  at  the 
group  of  auditors  with  a  sort  of  lion-like  complai- 
sance. Little  Alice,  whose  fancy  often  inspired  her 
with  singular  ideas,  exclaimed  that  the  lion's  head 
was  nodding  at  her,  and  that  it  looked  as  if  it  were 
going  to  open  its  wide  jaws  and  tell  a  story. 

But  as  the  lion's  head  appeared  to  be  in  no  haste 
to  speak,  and  as  there  was  no  record  or  tradition  of 
its  having  spoken  during  the  whole  existence  of  the 
chair,  Grandfather  did  not  consider  it  worth  while 
o   wait 


CHAPTER  II. 

"Charley,  my  boy/'  said  Grandfather,  "  do  you 
remember  who  was  the  last  occupant  of  the  chair  ?  " 

"  It  was  Lieutenant  Governor  Hutchinson,"  an- 
swered Charley.  "  Sir  Francis  Bernard,  the  new 
governor,  had  given  him  the  chair  instead  of  putting 
it  away  in  the  garret  of  the  Province  House.  And 
when  we  took  leave  of  Hutchinson  he  was  sitting  by 
his  fireside,  and  thinking  of  the  past  adventures  of 
the  chair  and  o?  what  was  to  come." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Grandfather  ;  "  and  you  recol- 
lect that  this  was  in  1763,  or  thereabouts,  at  the  close 
of  the  old  French  war.  Now,  that  you  may  fully 
comprehend  the  remaining  adventure  of  the  chair,  I 
must  make  some  brief  remarks  on  the  situation  and 
character  of  the  New  England  colonies  at  this  period." 

So  Grandfather  spoke  of  the  earnest  loyalty  of  our 
lathers  during  the  old  French  war,  and  after  the  con- 
quest of  Canada  had  brought  that  war  to  a  triumphant 
close. 

The   people   loved    and  reverenced  the  King  of 

f!73> 


174  GRANDFATHER'S    CHAIR. 

England  even  more  than  if  the  ocean  had  not  rolled 
its  waves  between  him  and  them ;  for,  at  the  distance 
of  three  thousand  miles,  they  could  not  discover  his 
bad  qualities  and  imperfections.  Their  love  was  in- 
creased by  the  dangers  which  they  had  encountered  in 
order  to  heighten  his  glory  and  extend  his  dominion. 
Throughout  the  war  the  American  colonists  had 
fought  side  by  side  with  the  soldiers  of  Old  England  ; 
and  nearly  thirty  thousand  young  men  had  laid  down 
their  lives  for  the  honor  of  King  George.  And  the 
survivors  loved  him  the  better  because  they  had  done 
and  suffered  so  much  for  his  sake. 

But  there  were  some  circumstances  that  caused 
America  to  feel  more  independent  of  England  than 
at  an  earlier  period.  Canada  and  Acadia  had  now 
become  British  provinces  ;  and  our  fathers  were  no 
longer  afraid  of  the  bands  of  French  and  Indians 
who  used  to  assault  them  in  old  times.  For  a  century 
and  a  half  this  had  been  the  great  terror  of  Xew 
England.  Now  the  old  French  soldier  was  driven 
from  the  north  forever.  And  even  had  it  been  other- 
wise, the  English  colonies  were  growing  so  populous 
and  powerful,  that  they  might  have  felt  fully  able  to 
protect  themselves  without  any  help  from  England. 

There  were  thoughtful  and  sagacious  men,  who 
began  to  doubt  whether  a  great  country  like  America 
U'ould  always  be  content  to  remain  under  the  gov- 
ernment  of    an    island   three   thousand  miles  away. 


grandfather's  chair.  175 

This  was  the  more  doubtful,  because  the  English 
Parliament  had  long  ago  made  laws  which  were  in- 
tended to  be  very  beneficial  to  England  at  the  ex- 
pense of  America.  By  these  laws  the  colonists  were 
forbidden  to  manufacture  articles  for  their  own  use, 
or  to  carry  on  trade  with  any  nation  but  the  English. 

"  Now,"  continued  Grandfather,  "  if  King  George 
III.  and  his  counsellors  had  considered  these  things 
wisely,  they  would  have  taken  another  course  than 
they  did.  But  when  they  saw  how  rich  and  popu- 
lous the  colonies  had  grown,  their  first  thought  was 
how  they  might  make  more  profit  out  of  them  than 
heretofore.  England  was  enormously  in  debt  at  the 
close  of  the  old  French  war  ;  and  it  was  pretended 
that  this  debt  had  been  contracted  for  the  defence  of 
the  American  colonies,  and  that,  therefore,  a  part  of  it 
ought  to  be  paid  by  them." 

"  Why,  this  was  nonsense  !  "  exclaimed  Charley. 
'  Did  not  our  fathers  spend  their  lives,  and  their 
money,  too,  to  get  Canada  for  King  George  i  " 

"  True,  they  did,"  said  Grandfather  ;  "  and  they 
told  the  English  rulers  so.  But  the  king  and  his 
ministers  would  not  listen  to  good  advice.  In  1T65 
the  British  Parliament  passed  a  stamp  act." 

"  What  was  that  ?  "  inquired  Charley. 

"The  stamp  act,"  replied  Grandfather,  "was  a  law 
by  which  all  deeds,  bonds,  and  other  papers  of  the 
Bame  kind  were  ordered  to  be  marked  with  the  kind's 


176  GRANDFATHER'S   CHAIR. 

stamp ;  and  without  this  mark  they  were  declared  il- 
legal and  void.  Xow,  in  order  to  get  a  blank  sheet 
of  paper  with  the  king's  stamp  upon  it,  people  were 
obliged  to  pay  threepence  more  than  the  actual  value 
of  the  paper.  And  this  extra  sum  of  threepence 
was  a  tax,  and  was  to  be  paid  into  the  king's 
treasury." 

"  I  am  sure  threepence  was  not  worth  quarrelling 
about ! "  remarked  Clara. 

"  It  was  not  for  threepence,  nor  for  any  amount 
of  money,  that  America  quarrelled  with  England," 
replied  Grandfather ;  "  it  was  for  a  great  principle. 
The  colonists  were  determined  not  to  be  taxed  ex- 
cept by  their  own  representatives.  They  said  that 
neither  the  king  and  Parliament,  nor  any  other  power 
on  earth,  had  a  right  to  take  their  money  out  of  their 
pockets  unless  they  freely  gave  it.  And,  rather  than 
pay  threepence  when  it  was  unjustly  demanded,  they 
resolved  to  sacrifice  all  the  wealth  of  the  country, 
and  their  lives  along  with  it.  They  therefore  made 
a  most  stubborn  resistance  to  the  stamp  act." 

"  That  was  noble  ! "  exclaimed  Laurence.  "  I  un- 
derstand how  it  was.  If  they  had  quietly  paid  the 
tax  of  threepence,  they  would  have  ceased  to  be  free 
men,  and  would  have  become  tributaries  of  England. 
And  so  they  contended  about  a  great  question  of  right 
and  wrong,  and  put  everything  at  stake  for  it.-' 

"  You    are    right,    Laurence,"    said  Grandfather, 


grandfather's  chair.  177 

"  and  it  was  really  amazing  and  terrible  to  see  what 
a  change  came  over  the  aspect  of  the  people  the  mo- 
ment the  English  Parliament  had  passed  this  oppres- 
sive act.  The  former  history  of  our  chair,  my  chil- 
dren, has  given  you  some  idea  of  what  a  harsh,  un 
yielding,  stern  set  of  men  the  old  Puritans  were. 
For  a  good  many  years  back,  however,  it  had  seemed 
as  if  these  characteristics  were  disappearing.  But  no 
60oner  did  England  offer  wrong  to  the  colonies  than 
the  descendants  of  the  early  settlers  proved  that  they 
had  the  same  kind  of  temper  as  their  forefathers. 
The  moment  before,  New  England  appeared  like  a 
humble  and  loyal  subject  of  the  crown  ;  the  next 
instant  she  showed  the  grim,  dark  features  of  an  old 
king-resisting  Puritan." 

Grandfather  spoke  briefly  of  the  public  measures 
that  wrere  taken  in  opposition  to  the  stamp  act.  As 
this  law  affected  all  the  American  colonies  alike,  it 
naturally  led  them  to  think  of  consulting  together  in 
order  to  procure  its  repeal.  For  this  purpose  the 
legislature  of  Massachusetts  proposed  that  delegates 
from  every  colony  should  meet  in  Congress.  Ac- 
cordingly nine  colonies,  both  northern  and  southern 
sent  delegates  to  the  city  of  Xew  York. 

"  And  did  they  consult  about  going  to  war  with 
England?"  asked  Charley. 

"  No,  Charley,"  answered  Grandfather  ;  "  a  great 
deal  of  talking  was  yet  to  be  done  before  England 
12 


178  grandfather's  chair. 

and  America  could  come  to  blows.  The  Congress 
stated  the  rights  and  grievances  of  the  colonists. 
They  sent  a  humble  petition  to  the  king,  and  a  me- 
morial to  the  Parliament,  beseeching  that  the  stamp 
act  might  be  repealed.  This  was  all  that  the  dele- 
gates had  it  in  their  power  to  do." 

"  They  might  as  well  have  staid  at  home,  then," 
said  Charley 

"  By  no  means,"  replied  Grandfather.  "  It  was 
a  most  important  and  memorable  event,  this  first 
coming  together  of  the  American  people  by  their 
representatives  from  the  north  and  south.  If  Eng- 
land had  been  wise,  she  would  have  trembled  at  the 
first  word  that  wras  spoken  in  such  an  assembly." 

These  remonstrances  and  petitions,  as  Grandfather 
observed,  were  the  work  of  grave,  thoughtful,  and 
prudent  men.  Meantime  the  young  and  hotheaded 
people  went  to  work  in  their  own  way.  It  is  prob- 
able that  the  petitions  of  Congress  would  have  had 
little  or  no  effect  on  the  British  statesmen  if  the  vio- 
lent deeds  of  the  American  people  had  not  shown 
how  much  excited  the  people  were.  Liberty  Tree 
was  soon  heard  of  in  England. 

"  What  was  Liberty  Tree  ?  "  inquired  Clara. 

"  It  was  an  old  elm  tree,"  answered  Grandfather, 
"  which  stood  near  the  corner  of  Essex  Street,  op- 
posite the  Boylston  Market.  Under  the  spreading 
branches  of  this  great  tree  the  people  used  to  assern- 


grandfather's  chair.  179 

ble  whenever  they  wished  to  express  their  feelings 
and  opinions.  Thus,  after  a  while,  it  seemed  as  if 
the  liberty  of  the  country  was  connected  with  Liberty 
Tree." 

.  (l  It  was  glorious  fruit  for  a  tree  to  bear,"  re- 
marked  Laurence. 

"  It  bore  strange  fruit,  sometimes,"  said  Grand- 
father. "  One  morning  in  August,  1765,  two  fig- 
ures were  found  hanging  on  the  sturdy  blanches 
of  Liberty  Tree.  They  were  dressed  in  square- 
skirted  coats  and  smallclothes  ;  and,  as  their  wiga 
hung  down  over  their  faces,  they  looked  like  real 
men.  One  was  intended  to  represent  the  Earl  of 
Bute,  who  was  supposed  to  have  advised  the  king  to 
tax  America.  The  other  was  meant  for  the  effigy  of 
Andrew  Oliver,  a  gentleman  belonging  to  one  of  the 
most  respectable  families  in  Massachusetts." 

"  What  harm  had  he  done  ?  "  inquired  Charley. 

"  The  king  had  appointed  him  to  be  distributer  of 
the  stamps,"  answered  Grandfather.  "  Mr.  Oliver 
Would  have  made  a  great  deal  of  money  by  this  busi- 
ness. But  the  people  frightened  him  so  much  by 
hanging  him  in  effigy,  and  afterwards  by  breaking 
into  his  house,  that  he  promised  to  have  nothing  to 
do  with  the  stamps.  And  all  the  king's  frienda 
throughout  America  were  competed  to  make  the 
same  promise." 


CHAPTER    III. 

"  Lieutenant  Governor  Hutchinson,"  contin- 
ued Grandfather,  "  now  began  to  be  unquiet  in  out 
old  chair.  He  had  formerly  been  much  respected 
and  beloved  by  the  people,  and  had  often  proved 
himself  a  friend  to  their  interests.  But  the  time  was 
come  when  he  could  not  be  a  friend  to  the  people 
without  ceasing  to  be  a  friend  to  the  king.  It  was 
pretty  generally  understood  that  Hutchinson  would 
act  according  to  the  king's  wishes,  right  or  wrong, 
like  most  of  the  other  gentlemen  who  held  ofhces 
under  the  crown.  Besides,  as  he  was  brother-in-law 
of  Andrew  Oliver,  the  people  now  felt  a  particular 
dislike  to  him." 

"  I  should  think,"  said  Laurence,  "  as  Mr.  Hutch- 
inson had  written  the  history  of  our  Puritan  fore- 
fathers, he  would  have  known  what  the  temper  of  the 
people  was,  and  so  have  taken  care  not  to  wrong 
them." 

"  He  trusted  in  the  might  of  the  King  of  England,' 
replied    Grandfather,    "  and    thought    himself    safe 

(180) 


grandfather's  chair.  181 

undei  the  shelter  of  the  throne.  If  no  dispute  had 
arisen  between  the  king  and  the  jeople,  Hutchinson 
would  have  had  the  character  of  a  wise,  good,  and 
patriotic  magistrate.  But,  from  the  time  that  he 
took  pait  against  the  rights  of  his  country,  the  peo- 
ple's love  and  respect  were  turned  to  scorn  and 
hatred,  and  he  never  had  another  hour  of  peace." 
In  order  to  show  what  a  fierce  and  dangerous  spirit 
was  now  aroused  among  the  inhabitants,  Grandfather 
related  a  passage  from  history  which  we  shall  call 

THE  HUTCHINSON   MOB. 

On  the  evening  of  the  26th  of  August,  1765,  a 
bonfire  was  kindled  in  King  Street.  It  flamed  high 
upward,  and  threw  a  ruddy  light  over  the  front  of 
the  Town  House,  on  which  was  displayed  a  carved 
representation  of  the  royal  arms.  The  gilded  vane 
of  the  cupola  glittered  in  the  blaze.  The  kindling 
©f  this  bonfire  was  the  well-known  signal  for  the 
populace  of  Boston  to  assemble  in  the  street. 

Before  the  tar  barrels,  of  which  the  bonfire  was 
made,  were  half  burned  out,  a  great  crowd  had  come 
together.  They  were  chiefly  laborers  and  seafaring 
men,  together  with  many  young  apprentices,  and  all 
those  idle  people  about  town  who  are  ready  for  any 
Kind  of  mischief.  Doubtless  seme  schoolboys  were 
imong  them. 


182  grandfather's  chair. 

While  these  rough  figures  stood  round  the  hlazing 
bonfire,  you  might  hear  them  speaking  bitter  words 
against  the  high  officers  of  the  province.  Governor 
Bernard,  Hutchinson,  Oliver,  Storey,  Hallo-well,  and 
other  men  whom  King  George  delighted  to  honor, 
were  reviled  as  traitors  to  the  country.  Now  and 
then,  perhaps,  an  officer  of  the  crown  passed  along 
the  street,  wearing  the  gold-laced  hat,  white  vig,  and 
embroidered  waistcoat  which  were  the  fashion  of  the 
day.  But  when  the  people  beheld  him  they  set  up 
a  wild  and  angry  howl ;  and  their  faces  had  an  evil 
aspect,  which  was  made  more  terrible  by  the  flicker- 
ing blaze  of  the  bonfire. 

"  I  should  like  to  throw  the  traitor  right  into  that 
blaze  !  "  perhaps  one  fierce  rioter  would  say. 

"  Yes  ;  and  all  his  brethren  too  !  "  another  might 
reply  ;  "  and  the  governor  and  old  Tommy  Hutchin- 
son into  the  hottest  of  it !  " 

"  And  the  Earl  of  Bute  along  with  them  !  "  mut- 
tered a  third  ;  "  and  burn  the  whole  pack  of  them 
under  King  George's  nose  !  No  matter  if  it  singed 
him!" 

Some  such  expressions  as  these,  either  shouted 
aloud  or  muttered  under  the  breath,  were  doubtless 
heard  in  King  Street.  The  mob,  meanwhile,  were 
growing  fiercer  and  fiercer,  and  seemed  ready  even  to 
Bet  the  town  on  fire  for  the  sake  of  burning  the  king's 
friends  out  of  house  and  home.     And  yet,  angry  as 


grandfather's  chair.  183 

they  were,  they  sometimes  broke  into  a  loud  roar  of 
laughter,  as  if  mischief  and  destruction  were  their  sport. 

But  we  must  now  leave  the  riotors  for  a  time,  and- 
take  a  peep  into  the  lieutenant  governor's  splendid 
mansion.  It  was  a  large  brick  house,  decorated  with 
Ionic  pilasters,  and  stood  in  Garden  Court  Street,  near 
the  North  Square. 

While  the  angry  mob  in  King  Street  were  shout- 
ing his  name,  Lieutenant  Governor  Hutchinson  sat 
quietlv  in  Grandfather's  chair,  unsuspicious  of  the 
evil  that  was  about  to  fall  upon  his  head.  His  beloved 
family  were  in  the  room  with  him.  lie  had  thrown 
off  his  embroidered  coat  and  powdered  wig,  and  had 
on  a  loose-flowing  gown  and  purple-velvet  cap.  He 
had  likewise  laid  aside  the  cares  of  state  and  all  the 
thoughts  that  had  wearied  and  perplexed  him  through- 
oat  the  day. 

Perhaps,  in  the  enjoyment  of  his  home,  he  had  for- 
gotten all  about  the  stamp  act,  and  scarcely  remem- 
bered that  there  was  a  king,  across  the  ocean,  who  had 
resolved  to  make  tributaries  of  the  New  Englanders. 
Possibly,  too,  he  had  forgotten  his  own  ambition,  and 
would  not  have  exchanged  his  situation,  at  that  mo- 
ment, to  be  governor,  or  even  a  lord. 

The  wax  candles  were  now  lighted,  and  showed  a 
handsome  room,  well  provided  with  rich  furniture 
On  the  walls  hung  the  pictures  of  Hutchinson's  an- 
cestors who  had  been  eminent  men  in  their  day  and 


Ib4  GRANDFATHER  S    CHAIR. 

were  honorably  remembered  in  the  history  of  the 
country.  Every  object  served  to  mark  the  residence 
of  a  rich,  aristocratic  gentleman,  who  held  himself 
high  above  the  common  people,  and  could  have  noth- 
ing to  fear  from  them.  In  a  corner  of  the  room, 
thrown  carelessly  upon  a  chair,  were  the  scarlet  robes 
of  the  chief  justice.  This  high  office,  as  well  as  those 
of  lieutenant  governor,  councillor,  and  judge  of  pro- 
bate, was  filled  by  Hutchinson. 

Who  or  what  could  disturb  the  domestic  quiet  of 
such  a  great  and  powerful  personage  as  now  sat  in 
Grandfather's  chair  ? 

The  lieutenant  governor's  favorite  daughter  sat  by 
his  side.  She  leaned  on  the  arm  of  our  great  chair, 
and  looked  up  affectionately  into  her  father's  face, 
rejoicing  to  perceive  that  a  quiet  smile  was  on  his  lips. 
But  suddenly  a  shade  came  across  her  countenance. 
She  seemed  to  listen  attentively,  as  if  to  catch  a  dis- 
tant sound. 

"  "What  is  the  matter,  my  child  ?  "  inquired  Hutch- 
inson. 

"  Father,  do  not  you  hear  a  tumult  in  the  streets  ?  " 
Baid  she. 

The  lieutenant  governor  listened.  But  his  ears 
were  duller  than  those  of  his  daughter  ;  he  could 
hear  nothing  more  terrible  than  the  sound  of  a  sum- 
mer breeze,  sighing  among  the  tops  of  the  elm  trees. 

*  No,  foolish  child  !  "  he  replied,  playfully  patting 


grandfather's  chair.  185 

her  cheek.  "  There  is  no  tumult.  Our  Boston  mobs 
are  satisfied  with  what  mischief  they  have  already 
done.     The  king's  friends  need  not  tremble." 

So  Hutchinson  resumed  his  pleasant  and  peacefu 
meditations,  and  again  forgot  that  there  were  any 
troubles  in  the  world.  But  his  family  were  alarmed, 
and  could  not  help  straining  their  ears  to  catch  the 
slightest  sound.  More  and  more  distinctly  they  heard 
shouts,  and  then  the  trampling  of  many  feet.  While 
they  were  listening,  one  of  the  neighbors  rushed 
breathless  into  the  room. 

"  A  mob  !  a  terrible  mob  !  "  cried  he.  "  They 
have  broken  into  Mr.  Storey's  house,  and  into  Mr. 
Hallowell's,  and  have  made  themselves  drunk  with 
the  liquors  in  his  cellar ;  and  now  they  are  coming 
hither,  as  wild  as  so  many  tigers.  Flee,  lieutenant 
governor,  for  your  life  !  for  your  life  !  " 

"  Father,  dear  father,  make  haste  !  "  shrieked  his 
children. 

But  Hutchinson  would  not  hearken  to  them.  He 
was  an  old  lawyer ;  and  he  could  not  realize  that  the 
people  would  do  any  thing  so  utterly  lawless  as  to 
assault  him  in  his  peaceful  home.  He  was  one  of 
King  George's  chief  officers  ;  and  it  would  be  an  in- 
sult and  outrage  upon  the  king  himself  if  the  lieu- 
tenant governor  should  surfer  any  wrong. 

"  Have  no  fears  on  my  account,"  said  he.  "  I  am 
perfectly  safe.  The  king'?  name  shall  be  my  pro. 
tectum." 


186  grandfather's  chair. 

Yet  he  bade  his  family  retire  into  one  of  the  neigh* 
boring  houses.     His  daughter  would  have  remained 
but  he  forced  her  away. 

The  huzzas  and  riotous  uproar  of  the  mob  were 
now  heard,  close  at  hand.  The  sound  was  terrible, 
and  struck  Hutchinson  with  the  same  soit  of  dread 
as  if  an  enraged  wild  beast  had  broken  locse  and 
were  roaring  for  its  prey.  He  crept  softly  to  the 
window.  There  he  beheld  an  immense  concourse  of 
people,  filling  all  the  street  and  rolling  onward  to  his 
house.  It  was  like  a  tempestuous  flood,  that  had 
swelled  beyond  its  bounds  and  would  sweep  every 
thing  before  it.  Hutchinson  trembled  ;  he  felt,  at 
that  moment,  that  the  wrath  of  the  people  was  a 
thousand  fold  more  terrible  than  the  wrath  of  a  king. 

That  was  a  moment  when  a  loyalist  and  an  aristo- 
crat like  Hutchinson  might  have  learned  how  power- 
less are  kings,  nobles,  and  great  men,  when  the  low 
and  humble  range  themselves  against  them.  King 
George  could  do  nothing  for  his  servant  now.  Had 
King  George  been  there  he  could  have  done  nothing 
for  himself.  If  Hutchinson  had  understood  this  les- 
son, and  remembered  it,  he  need  not,  in  after  years, 
have  been  an  exile  from  his  native  country,  nor  finally 
have  laid  his  bones  in  a  distant  land. 

There  was  now  a  rush  against  the  doors  of  the 
house.  The  people  sent  up  a  hoarse  cry.  At  this 
instant  the  lieutenant  governor's  daughter,  whom  he 


grandfather's  chair.  187 

had  supposed  to  be  in  a  place  of  safety,  ran  mto  the 
room  and  threw  her  arms  around  him.  She  had  re- 
turned by  a  private  entrance. 

"  Father,  are  you  mad  ?  "  cried  she.  "  "Will  the 
king's  name  protect  you  now  ?  Come  with  me,  or 
they  will  have  your  life." 

"  True,"  muttered  Hutchinson  to  himself;  "what 
care  these  roarers  for  the  name  of  king  ?  I  must 
flee,  or  they  will  trample  me  down  on  the  door  of  my 
own  dwelling." 

Hurrying  away,  he  and  his  daughter  made  their 
escape  by  the  private  passage  at  the  moment  when 
the  rioters  broke  into  the  house.  The  foremost  of 
them  rushed  up  the  staircase,  and  entered  the  room 
which  Hutchinson  had  just  quitted.  There  they  be- 
held our  good  old  chair  facing  them  with  quiet  dig- 
nity, while  the  lion's  head  seemed  to  move  its  jaws 
in  the  unsteady  light  of  their  torches.  Perhaps  the 
stately  aspect  of  our  venerable  friend,  which  had 
stood  firm  through  a  century  and  a  half  of  trouble, 
arrested  them  for  an  instant.  But  they  were  thrust 
forward  by  those  behind,  and  the  chair  lay  overthrown. 

Then  began  the  work  of  destruction.  The  carved 
and  polished  mahogany  tables  were  shattered  with 
heavy  clubs  and  hewn  to  splinters  with  axes.  The 
marble  bearths  and  mantel  pieces  were  broken.  The 
volumes  of  Hutchinson's  library,  so  precious  to  a 
studious  man,  were  torn  out  of  their  covers,  and  the 
leaves  sent  flying  out  of  the  windows.     Manuscripts, 


188  grandfather's  chair. 

containing  secrets  of  our  country's  history,  which  art 
now  lost  forever,  were  scattered  to  the  winds. 

The  old  ancestral  portraits,  whose  fixed  counte- 
nances looked  down  on  the  wild  scene,  were  rent 
from  the  walls.  The  mob  triumphed  in  their  down- 
fall and  destruction,  as  if  these  pictures  of  Hutchin- 
son's forefathers  had  committed  the  same  offences  as 
their  descendant.  A  tall  looking  glass,  which  had 
hitherto  presented  a  reflection  of  the  enraged  and 
drunken  multitude,  was  now  smashed  into  a  thousand 
fragments.  We  gladly  dismiss  the  scene  from  the 
mirror  of  our  fancy. 

Before  morning  dawned  the  walls  of  the  house 
were  all  that  remained.  The  interior  was  a  dismal 
scene  of  ruin.  A  shower  pattered  in  at  the  broken 
windows  ;  and  when  Hutchinson  and  his  family  re- 
turned, they  stood  shivering  in  the  same  room  where 
the  last  evening  had  seen  them  so  peaceful  and  happy. 

"  Grandfather,"  said  Laurence, indignantly,  "if  the 
people  acted  in  this  manner,  they  were  not  worthy 
of  even  so  much  liberty  as  the  King  of  England  was 
nulling  to  allow  them." 

"  It  was  a  most  unjustifiable  act,  like  many  other 
popular  movements  at  that  time,"  replied  Grandfather. 
"  But  we  must  not  decide  against  the  justice  of  the 
people's  cause  merely  because  an  excited  mob  was 
guilty  of  outrageous  violence.  Besides,  al)  these 
things   were   done  in  the   first  fury  of   resentment 


grandfather's  chair.  189 

Afterwards  the  people  grew  more  calm,  and  were 
more  influenced  by  the  counsel  of  those  wise  and 
good  men  who  conducted  them  safely  and  gloriously 
through  the  revolution." 

Little  Alice,  with  tears  in  her  blue  eyes,  said  that 
ehe  hoped  the  neighbors  had  not  let  Lieutenant 
Governor  Hutchinson  and  his  family  be  homeless  in 
the  street,  but  had  taken  them  into  their  houses  and 
been  kind  to  them.  Cousin  Clara,  recollecting  the 
perilous  situation  of  our  beloved  chair,  inquired  what 
had  become  of  it. 

'•  Nothing  was  heard  of  our  chair  for  some  time 
afterwards,"  answered  Grandfather.  "  One  day,  in 
September,  the  same  Andrew  Oliver,  of  whom  I  before 
told  you,  was  summoned  to  appear  at  high  noon  un- 
der Liberty  Tree.  This  was  the  strangest  summons 
that  had  ever  been  heard  of ;  for  it  was  issued  in  the 
name  of  the  whole  people,  who  thus  took  upon  them- 
selves the  authority  of  a  sovereign  power.  Mr.  Oliver 
dared  not  disobey.  Accordingly,  at  the  appointed 
hour  he  went,  much  against  his  will,  to  Liberty  Tree." 

Here  Charley  interposed  a  remark  that  poor  Mr 
Oliver  found  but  little  liberty  under  Liberty  Tree. 
Grandfather  assented. 

"  It  was  a  stormy  day,"  continued  he.  "  The 
equinoctial  gale  blew  violently,  and  scattered  the  yel- 
low leaves  of  Liberty  Tree  all  along  the  street.  Mr. 
Oliver's  wig  was  dripping  with  waterdrops  ;  and  he 
probably  looked  haggard,  disconsolate,  and  humbled 


190  grandfather's  chair. 

to  the  earth.  Beneath  the  tree,  in  Grandfather's  chair 
—  our  own  venerable  chair,  —  sat  Mr.  Richard  Dana, 
a  justice  of  the  peace.  He  administered  an  oath  to 
Mr.  Oliver  that  he  would  never  have  any  thing  to 
do  with  distributing  the  stamps.  A  vast  concourse 
of  people  heard  the  oath,  and  shouted  when  it  was 
taken." 

"  There  is  something  grand  in  this,"  said  Laurence. 
11 1  like  it,  because  the  people  seem  to  have  acted  with 
thoughtfulness  and  dignity  ;  and  this  proud  gentle- 
man, one  of  his  majesty's  high  officers,  was  made  to 
feel  that  King  George  could  not  protect  him  in  doing 
wrong." 

"  But  it  was  a  sad  day  for  poor  Mr  Oliver,"  ob- 
served Grandfather.  "  From  his  youth  upward  it 
had  probably  been  the  great  principle  of  his  life  to 
be  faithful  and  obedient  to  the  king.  And  now,  in 
his  old  age,  it  must  have  puzzled  and  distracted  him 
to  find  the  sovereign  people  setting  up  a  claim  to  his 
faith  and  obedience." 

Grandfather  closed  the  evening's  conversation  by 
saying  that  the  discontent  of  America  was  so  great, 
that,  in  1766,  the  British  Parliament  was  compelled 
to  repeal  the  stamp  act.  The  people  made  great  re- 
joicings, but  took  care  to  keep  Liberty  Tree  well 
pruned  and  free  from  caterpillars  and  canker  worms. 
They  foresaw  that  there  might  yet  be  occasion  for 
them  to  assemble  under  its  far-projecting  shadow. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

The  next  evening,  Clara,  who  remembered  that 
our  chair  had  been  left  standing  in  the  rain  undei 
Liberty  Tree,  earnestly  besought  Grandfather  to 
tell  when  and  where  it  had  next  found  shelter. 
Perhaps  she  was  afraid  that  the  venerable  chair, 
by  being  exposed  to  the  inclemency  of  a  Sep- 
tember gale,  might  get  the  rheumatism  in  its  aged 
joints. 

"  The  chair,"  said  Grandfather,  "  after  the  cere- 
mony of  Mr.  Oliver's  oath,  appears  to  have  been 
quite  forgotten  by  the  multitude.  Indeed,  being 
much  bruised  and  rather  rickety,  owing  to  the  violent 
treatment  it  had  suffered  from  the  Hutchinson  mob, 
most  people  would  have  thought  that  its  days  of  use- 
fulness were  over.  Nevertheless,  it  was  conveyed 
away  under  cover  of  the  night  and  committed  to  the 
care  of  a  skilful  joiner.  He  doctored  our  old  friend 
so  successfully,  that,  in  the  course  of  a  few  days,  it 
made  its  appearance  in  the  public  room  of  the  British 
Coffee  House,  in  King  Street.  ' 

(19i) 


192  grandfather's  chair. 

( But  why  did  not  Mr.  Hutchinson  get  possessioi 
of  it  again  ?  "  inquired  Charley. 

"  I  know  not,"  answered  Grandfather,  "  unless  h( 
considered  it  a  dishonor  and  disgrace  to  the  chair  t( 
have  stood  under  Liberty  Tree.  At  all  events,  he 
Buffered  it  to  remain  at  the  British  Coffee  House, 
which  was  the  principal  hotel  in  Boston.  It  could 
not  possibly  have  found  a  situation  where  it  would 
be  more  in  the  midst  of  business  and  bustle,  or  would 
witness  more  important  events,  or  be  occupied  by  a 
greater  variety  of  persons." 

Grandfather  went  on  to  tell  the  proceedings  of  the 
despotic  king  and  ministry  of  England  after  the  re- 
peal of  the  stamp  act.  They  could  not  bear  to  think 
that  their  right  to  tax  America  should  be  disputed  by 
the  people.  In  the  year  1767,  therefore,  they  caused 
Parliament  to  pass  an  act  for  laying  a  duty  on  tea 
and  some  other  articles  that  were  in  general  use. 
Nobody  could  now  buy  a  pound  of  tea  without  pay- 
ing a  tax  to  King  George.  This  scheme  was  pretty 
craftily  contrived ;  for  the  women  of  America  were 
very  fond  of  tea,  and  did  not  like  to  give  up  the  use 
of  it. 

But  the  people  were  as  much  opposed  to  this  new 
act  of  Parliament  as  they  had  been  to  the  stamp  act. 
England,  however,  was  determined  that  they  should 
submit.  In  order  to  compel  their  obedience,  two 
regiments,  consisting  of  more  than  seven  hundred 
British  soldiers,  were  sent  to  Boston.     They  arrived 


grandfather's  chair.  193 

in  September,  1768,  and  were  landed  on  Long 
Wharf.  Thence  they  marched  to  the  Common  with 
loaded  muskets,  fixed  bayonets,  and  great  pomp  and 
parade.  So  now,  at  last,  the  free  town  of  Boston 
was  guarded  and  overawed  by  redcoats  as  it  had  been 
in  the  days  of  old  Sir  Edmund  Andros. 

In  the  month  of  November  more  regiments  ar- 
rived. There  were  now  four  thousand  troops  in 
Boston.  The  Common  was  whitened  with  their 
tents.  Some  of  the  soldiers  were  lodged  in  Faneuil 
Hall,  which  the  inhabitants  looked  upon  as  a  conse- 
crated place,  because  it  had  been  the  scene  of  a  great 
many  meetings  in  favor  of  liberty.  One  regiment 
was  placed  in  the  Town  House,  which  we  now  call 
the  Old  State  House.  The  lower  floor  of  this  edifice 
had  hitherto  been  used  by  the  merchants  as  an  ex- 
change. In  the  upper  stories  were  the  chambers  of 
the  judges,  the  representatives,  and  the  governor's 
council.  The  venerable  councillors  could  not  assem- 
ble to  consult  about  the  welfare  of  the  province 
without  being  challenged  by  sentinels  and  passing 
among  the  bayonets  of   the  British  soldiers. 

Sentinels  likewise  were  posted  at  the  lodgings  of 
the  officers  in  many  parts  of  the  town.  When  the 
inhabitants  approached  they  were  greeted  by  the 
sharp  question,  "  Who  goes  there  ?  "  while  the  rat- 
tle of  the  soldier's  musket  was  heard  as  he  presented 
it  against  their  breasts.  There  was  no  quiet  even  oo 
13 


194  GRANDF.A  rilER  S    CHAIR. 

the  Sabbath  day.  The  pious  descendants  of  the 
Puritans  were  shocked  by  the  uproar  of  military 
music ;  the  drum,  fife,  and  bugle  drowning  the  holy 
organ  peal  and  the  voices  of  the  singers.  It  would 
appear  as  if  the  British  took  every  method  to  insult 
the  feelings  of  the  people. 

"  Grandfather,"  cried  Charley,  impatiently,  "  the 
people  did  not  go  to  fighting  half  soon  enough ! 
These  British  redcoats  ought  to  have  been  driven 
back  to  their  vessels  the  very  moment  they  landed 
on  Long  Wharf." 

"  Many  a  hotheaded  young  man  said  the  same  as 
you  do,  Charley,"  answered  Grandfather.  "  But  the 
elder  and  wiser  people  saw  that  the  time  was  not  yet 
come.  Meanwhile,  let  us  take  another  peep  at  our 
old  chair." 

"  Ah,  it  drooped  its  head,  I  know,"  said  Charley, 
"  when  it  saw  how  the  province  was  disgraced.  Its  old 
Puritan  friends  never  would  have  borne  such  doings." 

"  The  chair,"  proceeded  Grandfather,  "  was  now 
continually  occupied  by  some  of  the  high  tories,  as 
the  king's  friends  were  called,  who  frequented  the 
British  Coffee  House.  Officers  of  the  Custom  House, 
too,  which  stood  on  the  opposite  side  of  King  Street, 
often  sat  in  the  chair  wagging  their  tongues  against 
John  Hancock." 

"  Why  against  him  ?  "  asked  Charley. 

"  Because  he  was  a  great  merchant  and  contended 
against  paying  duties  to  the  king,"  said  Grandfather 


grandfather's  chair  195 

"  Well,  frequently,  no  doubt,  the  officers  of  the 
British  regiments,  when  not  on  duty,  used  to  fling 
themselves  into  the  arms  of  our  venerable  chair 
Fancy  one  of  them,  a  red-nosed  captain  in  his  scarlet 
uniform,  playing  with  the  hilt  of  his  sword,  and  mak- 
ing a  circle  of  his  brother  officers  merry  with  ridicu- 
lous jokes  at  the  expense  of  the  poor  Yankees.  And 
perhaps  he  would  call  for  a  bottle  of  wine,  or  a  steam- 
ing bowl  of  punch,  and  drink  confusion  to  all  rebels." 

"  Our  grave  old  chair  must  have  been  scandalized 
at  such  scenes,"  observed  Laurence ;  "  the  chair 
that  had  been  the  Lady  Arbella's,  and  which  the  holy 
apostle  Eliot  had  consecrated." 

"  It  certainly  was  little  less  than  sacrilege,"  re- 
plied Grandfather ;  "  but  the  time  was  coming  when 
even  the  churches,  where  hallowed  pastors  had  long 
preached  the  word  of  God,  were  to  be  torn  down  or 
desecrated  by  the  British  troops.  Some  years  passed, 
however,  before  such  things  were  done." 

Grandfather  now  told  his  auditors  that,  in  1769, 
Sir  Francis  Bernard  went  to  England  after  having 
been  governor  of  Massachusetts  ten  years.  He  was 
a  gentleman  of  many  good  qualities,  an  excellent 
scholar,  and  a  friend  to  learning.  But  he  was  nat- 
urally of  an  arbitrary  disposition  ;  and  he  had  been 
bred  at  the  University  of  Oxford,  where  young  men 
were  taught  that  the  divine  right  of  kings  was  the 
only  thing  to  be  regarded  in  matters  of  government 
6uch   ideas  were  ill  adapted  to  please  the  people  of 


196  grandfather's  chair. 

Massachusetts.  They  rejoiced  to  get  rid  of  Sir 
Francis  Bernard,  but  liked  his  successor,  Lieutenant 
Governor  Hutchinson,  no  better  than  himself. 

About  this  period  the  people  were  much  incensed 
at  an  act  committed  by  a  person  who  held  an  office  in 
the  Custom  House.  Some  lads,  or  young  men,  were 
snowballing  his  windows.  He  fired  a  musket  at 
them,  and  killed  a  poor  German  boy,  only  eleven 
years  old.  This  event  made  a  great  noise  in  town 
and  country,  and  much  increased  the  resentment  that 
was  already  felt  against  the  servants  of  the  crown. 

"  Now,  children,"  said  Grandfather,  "  I  wish  to 
make  you  comprehend  the  position  of  the  British 
troops  in  King  Street.  This  is  the  same  which  we 
now  call  State  Street.  On  the  south  side  of  the  Town 
House,  or  Old  State  House,  was  what  military  men 
call  a  court  of  guard,  defended  by  two  brass  cannons, 
which  pointed  directly  at  one  of  the  doors  of  the 
above  edifice.  A  large  party  of  soldiers  were  always 
stationed  in  the  court  of  guard.  The  Custom  House 
stood  at  a  little  distance  down  King  Street,  nearly 
where  the  Suffolk  Bank  now  stands,  and  a  sentinel 
was  continually  pacing  before  its  front." 

"  I  shall  remember  this  to-morrow,"  said  Charley 
"and  I  will  go  to  State  Street,  so  as  to  see  exactly 
where  the  British  troops  were  stationed." 

"  And  before  long,"  observed  Grandfather,  "  I 
shall  have  tc  relate  an  event  which  made  King  Street 
»adly  famous   on  both   sides  of   the  Atlantic.     The 


grandfather's  chair.  197 

history  of  our  chair  will  soon  bring  us  to  this  mel- 
ancholy business." 

Here  Grandfather  described  the  state  of  things 
which  arose  from  the  ill  will  that  existed  between 
the  inhabitants  and  the  redcoats.  The  old  and  sober 
part  of  the  townspeople  were  very  angry  at  the  gov- 
ernment for  sending  soldiers  to  overawe  them.  But 
those  grayheaded  men  were  cautious,  and  kept  their 
thoughts  and  feelings  in  their  own  breasts,  without 
putting  themselves  in  the  way  of  the  British  bayonets. 

The  younger  people,  however,  could  hardly  be 
kept  within  such  prudent  limits.  They  reddened 
with  wrath  at  the  very  sight  of  a  soldier,  and  would 
have  been  willing  to  come  to  blows  with  them  at  any 
moment.  For  it  was  their  opinion  that  every  tap  of 
a  British  drum  within  the  peninsula  of  Boston  was 
an  insult  to  the  brave  old  town. 

"  It  was  sometimes  the  case,"  continued  Grand- 
father, "  that  affrays  happened  between  such  wild 
young  men  as  these  and  small  parties  of  the  soldiers. 
No  weapons  had  hitherto  been  used  except  fists  or 
cudgels.  But  when  men  have  loaded  muskets  in 
their  hands,  it  is  easy  to  foretell  that  they  will  soon 
be  turned  against  the  bosoms  of  those  who  provoke 
their  anger." 

"  Grandfather,"  said  little  Alice,  looking  fearfully 
into  his  face,  "  your  voice  sounds  as  though  you  were 
going  to  tell  us  something  awful !  " 


CHAPTER  V. 

Little  Alice,  by  her  last  remark,  proved  herself  a 
good  judge  of  what  was  expressed  by  the  tones  of 
Grandfather's  voice.  He  had  given  the  above  de- 
scription of  the  enmity  between  the  townspeople  and 
the  soldiers  in  order  to  prepare  the  minds  of  his 
auditors  for  a  very  terrible  event.  It  was  one  that 
did  more  to  heighten  the  quarrel  between  England 
and  America  than  any  thing  that  had  yet  occurred. 

"Without  further  preface,  Grandfather  began  the 
story  of 

THE   BOSTON   MASSACRE. 

It  was  now  the  3d  of  March,  1770.  The  sunset 
music  of  the  British  regiments  was  heard  as  usual 
throughout  the  town.  The  shrill  fife  and  rattling 
drum  awoke  the  echoes  in  King  Street,  while  the  last 
ray  of  sunshine  was  lingering  on  the  cupola  of  the 
Town  House.  And  now  all  the  sentinels  were  posted. 
One  of  them  marched  up  and  down  before  the  Cus 
torn  House,  treading  a  short  path  tlu-ough  the  snow 

(198) 


grandfather's  chair.  199 

and  longing  for  the  time  when  he  would  be  dismissed 
to  the  warm  fireside  of  the  guard  room.  Meanwhile 
Captain  Preston  was.  perhaps,  sitting  in  our  great 
chair  before  the  hearth  of  the  British  Coffee  House. 
In  the  course  of  the  evening  there  were  two  or  three 
slight  commotions,  which  seemed  to  indicate  that 
trouble  was  at  hand.  Small  parties  of  young  men 
stood  at  the  corners  of  the  streets  or  walked  along 
the  narrow  pavements.  Squads  of  soldiers  who 
were  dismissed  from  duty  passed  by  them,  shoulder 
to  shoulder,  with  the  regular  step  which  they  had 
learned  at  the  drill.  Whenever  these  encounters 
took  place,  it  appeared  to  be  the  object  of  the  young 
men  to  treat  the  soldiers  with  as  much  incivility  as 
possible. 

"  Turn  out,  you  lobsterbacks  !  "  one  would  say. 
"  Crowd  them  off  the  sidewalks !  "  another  would 
cry.     "  A  redcoat  has  no  right  in  Boston  streets !  " 

"  0,  you  rebel  rascals  !  "  perhaps  the  soldiers  would 
reply,  glaring  fiercely  at  the  young  men.  "  Some 
day  or  other  we'll  make  our  way  through  Boston 
streets  at  the  point  of   the  bayonet !  " 

Once  or  twice  such  disputes  as  these  brought  on  a 
6cuffle  ;  which  passed  off,  however,  M'ithout  attracting 
much  notice.  About  eight  o'clock,  for  some  unknown 
cause,  an  alarm  bell  rang  loudly  and  hurriedly. 

At  the  sound  many  people  ran  out  of  their  houses, 
supposing  it  to  be  an  alarm  of  fire.     But  there  were 


200  grandfather's  chair. 

no  flames  to  be  seen ;  nor  was  there  any  smell  of 
smoke  in  the  clear*,  frosty  air  ;  sc  that  most  of  the 
townsmen  went  back  to  their  own  firesides  and  sat 
talking  with  their  wives  and  children  about  the 
calamities  of  the  times.  Others  who  Mere  younger 
and  less  prudent  remained  in  the  streets ;  for  there 
seems  to  have  been  a  presentiment  that  some  strange 
event  was  on  the  eve  of  taking  place. 

Later  in  the  evening,  not  far  from  nine  o'clock, 
several  young  men  passed  by  the  Town  House  and 
walked  down  King  Street.  The  sentinel  was  still  on 
his  post  in  front  of  the  Custom  House,  pacing  to  and 
fro  j  while,  as  he  turned,  a  gleam  of  light  from  some 
neighboring  window  glittered  on  the  barrel  of  his 
musket.  At  no  great  distance  were  the  barracks  and 
the  guard  house,  where  his  comrades  were  probably 
telling  stories  of  battle  and  bloodshed. 

Down  towards  the  Custom  House,  as  I  told  you, 
came  a  party  of  vdld  young  men.  "When  they  drew 
near  the  sentinel  he  halted  on  his  post,  and  took  his 
musket  from  Iris  shoulder,  ready  to  present  the  bayo- 
net at  their  breasts. 

"  Who  goes  there  ?  "  he  cried,  in  the  gruff,  per- 
emptory tones  of   a  soldier's  challenge. 

The  young  men,  being  Boston  boys,  felt  as  if  they 
had  a  right  10  walk  their  own  streets  without  being 
accountable  to  a  British  redcoat,  even  though  he  chal- 
lenged them  in  King  George's  name.     They  made 


GRANDFATHER  S    CHAIR.  201 

iome  rude  answer  to  the  sentinel.  Theie  was  a  dis 
pute,  or  perhaps  a  scuffle.  Other  soldiers  heard  the 
noise,  and  ran  hastily  from  the  harracks  to  assist  their 
comrades.  At  the  same  time  many  of  the  towns- 
people rushed  into  King  Street  by  various  avenues, 
and  gathered  in  a  crowd  round  about  the  Custom 
House.  It  seemed  wonderful  how  such  a  multitude 
had  started  up  all  of  a  sudden. 

The  wrongs  and  insults  which  the  people  had  been 
Buffering  for  many  months  now  kindled  them  into  a 
rage.  They  threw  snowballs  and  lumps  of  ice  at  the 
soldiers.  As  the  tumult  grew  louder  it  reached  the 
ears  of  Captain  Preston,  the  officer  of  the  day.  He 
immediately  ordered  eight  soldiers  of  the  main  guard 
to  take  their  muskets  and  follow  him.  They  marched 
across  the  street,  forcing  their  way  roughly  through 
the  crowd,  and  pricking  the  townspeople  with  their 
bayonets. 

A  gentleman  (it  was  Henry  Knox,  afterwards 
general  of  the  American  artillery)  caught  Captain 
Preston's  arm. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  sir,"  exclaimed  he,  "  take 
heed  what  you  do,  or  here  will  be  bloodshed." 

"  Stand  aside  !  "  answered  Captain  Preston,  haugh- 
tily. "  Do  not  interfere,  sir.  Leave  me  to  manage 
the  affair." 

Arriving  at  the  sentinel's  post,  Captain  Preston 
drew  up  his  men  in  a  semicircle,  with  their  faces  to 


202  GRANDFATHER  8    CHAIR. 

the  crowd  and  their  rear  to  the  Custom  House.  AVheL 
the  people  saw  the  officer  and  beheld  the  threatening 
attitude  with  which  the  soldiers  fronted  them,  their 
rage  became  almost  uncontrollable. 

"  Fire,  you  lobsterbacks  !  "  bellowed  some. 

"  You  dare  not  fire,  you  cowardly  redcoats  I  "  cried 
others. 

"  Hush  upon  them  !  "  shouted  many  voices. 
"  Drive  the  rascals  to  their  barracks  !  Down  with 
them !  Down  with  them  !  Let  them  fire  if  they 
dare ! " 

Amid  the  uproar,  the  soldiers  stood  glaring  at  the 
people  with  the  fierceness  of  men  whose  trade  was  to 
shed  blood. 

O,  what  a  crisis  had  now  arrived  !  Up  to  this 
very  moment,  the  angry  feelings  between  England 
and  America  might  have  been  pacified.  England  had 
but  to  stretch  out  the  hand  of  reconciliation,  and  ac- 
knowledge that  she  had  hitherto  mistaken  her  rights, 
but  would  do  so  no  more.  Then  the  ancient 
bonds  of  brotherhood  would  again  have  been  knit 
together  as  firmly  as  in  old  times.  The  habit  of 
loyalty,  which  had  grown  as  strong  as  instinct,  was 
not  utterly  overcome.  The  perils  shared,  the  vic- 
tories won,  in  the  old  French  war,  when  the  sol- 
diers of  the  colonies  fought  side  by  side  with  their 
comrades  from  beyond  the  sea,  were  unforgotten  yet 
England  was   still  that  beloved    country  winch  the 


GRANDFATHER  8    CHAIR.  203 

colonists  called  their  home.  King  George,  though 
he  had  frowned  upon  America,  was  still  reverenced 
as  a  father. 

But  should  the  king's  soldiers  shed  one  drop  of 
American  blood,  then  it  was  a  quarrel  to  the  death. 
Never,  never  would  America  rest  satisfied  until 
she  had  torn  down  the  royal  authority  and  trampled 
it  in  the  dust. 

"  Fire,  if  you  dare,  villains  !  "  hoarsely  shouted 
the  people,  while  the  muzzles  of  the  muskets  were 
turned  upon  them      "  You  dare  not  fire  !  " 

They  appeared  ready  to  rush  upon  the  levelled 
bayonets.  Captain  Preston  waved  his  sword,  and 
uttered  a  command  which  could  not  be  distinctly 
heard  amid  the  uproar  of  shouts  that  issued  from  a 
hundred  throats.  But  his  soldiers  deemed  that  he 
had  spoken  the  fatal  mandate,  "  Fire  !  "  The  flash  of 
their  muskets  lighted  up  the  street,  and  the  report 
rang  loudly  between  the  edifices.  It  was  said,  too, 
that  the  figure  of  a  man,  with  a  cloth  hanging  down 
over  his  face,  was  seen  to  step  into  the  balcony  of  the 
Custom  House  and  discharge  a  musket  at  the  crowd. 

A  gush  of  smoke  had  overspread  the  scene.  It  rose 
heavily,  as  if  it  were  loath  to  reveal  the  dreadful 
spectacle  beneath  it.  Eleven  of  the  sons  of  New 
England  lay  stretched  upon  the  street.  Some,  sore- 
ly wounded,  were  struggling  to  rise  again.  Others 
stirred  not  nor  groaned ;  for  they  were  past  all  pain. 


204  grandfather's  chair 

Blood  was  streaming  upon  the  snow  ;  and  that  purple 
Btain  in  the  midst  of  King  Street,  though  it  melted 
away  in  the  next  day's  sun,  was  never  forgotten  nor 
forgiven  by  the  people. 

Grandfather  was  interrupted  by  the  violent  sobs  of 
little  Alice.  In  his  earnestness  he  had  neglected  to 
soften  down  the  narrative  so  that  it  might  not  terrify 
the  heart  of  this  unworldly  infant.  Since  Grand- 
father began  the  history  of  our  chair,  little  Alice  had 
listened  to  many  tales  of  war.  But  probably  the 
idea  had  never  really  impressed  itself  upon  her  mind 
that  men  have  shed  the  blood  of  their  fellow-crea- 
tures. And  now  that  this  idea  was  forcibly  presented 
to  her,  it  affected  the  sweet  child  with  bewilderment 
and  horror. 

"  I  ought  to  have  remembered  our  dear  little 
Alice,"  said  Grandfather  reproachfully  to  himself. 
'*  O,  what  a  pity  !  Her  heavenly  nature  has  now 
received  its  first  impression  of  earthly  sin  and  vio- 
lence. Well,  Clara,  take  her  to  bed  and  comfort  her. 
Heaven  grant  that  she  may  dream  away  the  recollec- 
tion of  the  Boston  massacre  !  " 

"  Grandfather,"  said  Charley,  when  Clara  and  little 
Alice  had  retired,  "  did  not  the  people  rush  upon  the 
soldiers  and  take  revenge  ?  " 

"  The  town  drums  beat  to  arms,"  replied  Grand- 
father, "  the  alarm  bells  rang,  and  an  immense  multi 


GRANDFATHER  S    CHAIR.  205 

hide  rushed  into  King  Street.  Many  of  them  had 
weapons  in  their  hands.  The  British  prepared  to  de- 
fend themselves.  A  whole  regiment  was  drawn  up  in 
the  street,  expecting  an  attack  ;  for  the  townsmen  ap- 
peared ready  to  throw  themselves  upon  the  bayonets." 

"  And  how  did  it  end  ?  "  asked  Charley. 

"  Governor  Hutchinson  hurried  to  the  spot,"  said 
Grandfather,  "  and  besought  the  people  to  have  pa- 
tience, promising  that  strict  justice  should  be  done. 
A  day  or  two  afterward  the  British  troops  were  with- 
drawn from  town  and  stationed  at  Castle  William. 
Captain  Preston  and  the  eight  soldiers  were  tried  for 
rcmrder.  But  none  of  them  were  found  guilty.  The 
judges  told  the  jury  that  the  insults  and  violence 
which  had  been  offered  to  the  soldiers  justified  them 
in  firing  at  the  mob." 

"  The  revolution,"  observed  Laurence,  who  had 
said  but  little  during  the  evening,  "  was  not  such  a 
calm,  majestic  movement  as  I  supposed.  I  do  not 
love  to  hear  of  mobs  and  broils  in  the  street.  These 
things  were  unworthy  of  the  people  when  they  had 
such  a  great  object  to  accomplish." 

"  Nevertheless,  the  world  has  seen  no  grander 
movement  than  that  of  our  revolution  from  first  to 
last,"  said  Grandfather.  "  The  people,  to  a  man. 
were  full  of   a  srreat  and    noble    sentiment.     True. 

O  * 

there  may  be  much  fault  to  find  with  their  mode  of 
expressing  this  sentiment ;  but  they  knew  no  better ; 


206  grandfather's  chair. 

the  necessity  was  upon  them  to  act  out  their  feel- 
ings in  the  best  manner  they  could.  We  must  for- 
give what  was  wrong  in  their  actions,  and  look  into 
their  hearts  and  minds  for  the  honorable  motives  that 
impelled  them." 

"  And  I  suppose,"  said  Laurence,  "  there  were  men 
who  knew  how  to  act  worthily  of  what  they  felt." 

"  There  were  many  such,"  replied  Grandfather  ; 
"  and  we  will  speak  of  some  of  them  hereafter." 

Grandfather  here  made  a  pause.  That  night 
Charley  had  a  dream  about  the  Boston  massacre,  and 
thought  that  he  himself  was  in  the  crowd  and  struck 
down  Captain  Preston  with  a  great  club.  Laurence 
dreamed  that  he  was  sitting  in  our  great  chair,  at  the 
window  of  the  British  Coffee  House,  and  beheld  the 
whole  scene  which  Grandfather  had  described.  It 
seemed  to  him,  in  his  dream,  that,  if  the  townspeople 
and  the  soldiers  would  but  have  heard  him  speak  a 
single  word,  all  the  slaughter  might  have  been  averted. 
But  there  was  such  an  uproar  that  it  drowned  his  voice. 

The  next  morning  the  two  boys  went  together  to 
State  Street  and  stood  on  the  very  spot  where  the 
first  blood  of  the  revolution  had  been  shed.  The 
Old  State  House  was  still  there,  presenting  almost 
the  same  aspect  that  it  had  worn  on  that  memorable 
evening,  one  and  seventy  years  ago.  It  is  the  sok 
remaining  witness  of  the  Boston  massacre. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  next  evening  the  astral  lamp  was  lighted  ear- 
lier than  usual,  because  Laurence  was  very  much 
engaged  in  looking  over  the  collection  of  portraits 
which  had  been  his  New  Year's  gift  from  Grandfather. 

Among  them  he  found  the  features  of  more  than 
one  famous  personage  who  had  been  connected  with 
the  adventures  of  our  old  chair.  Grandfather  bade 
him  draw  the  table  nearer  to  the  fireside  ;  and  they 
looked  over  the  portraits  together,  while  Clara  and 
Charley  likewise  lent  their  attention.  As  for  little 
Alice,  she  sat  in  Grandfather's  lap,  and  seemed  to  see 
the  very  men  alive  whose  faces  were  there  represented. 

Turning  over  the  volume,  Laurence  came  to  the 
portrait  of  a  stern,  grim-looking  man,  in  plain  attire 
of  much  more  modern  fashion  than  that  of  the  old 
Puritans.  But  the  face  might  well  have  befitted  one 
of  those  iron-hearted  men.  Beneath  the  portrait  was 
the  name  of  Samuel  Adams. 

"  He  was  a  man  of  great  note  in  all  the  doings 
that  brought  about  the  revolution,"  said  Grandfather 

(207) 


208  grandfather's  chair. 

"  His  character  was  such,  that  it  seemed  as  if  one  of 
the  ancient  Puritans  had  been  sent  back  to  earth  to 
animate  the  people's  hearts  with  the  same  abhorrence 
of  tyranny  that  had  distinguished  the  earliest  settlers. 
He  was  as  religious  as  they,  as  stern  and  inflexible, 
and  as  deeply  imbued  with  democratic  principles 
He,  better  than  any  one  else,  may  be  taken  as  a  rep- 
resentative of  the  people  of  New  England,  and  of 
the  spirit  with  which  they  engaged  in  the  revolution- 
ary struggle.  He  was  a  poor  man,  and  earned  his 
bread  by  a  humble  occupation  ;  but  with  his  tongue 
and  pen  he  made  the  King  of  England  tremble  on 
his  throne.  Remember  him,  my  children,  as  one  of 
the  strong  men  of  our  country." 

"  Here  is  one  whose  looks  show  a  very  different 
character,"  observed  Laurence,  turning  to  the  por- 
trait of  John  Hancock.  "  I  should  think,  by  his 
splendid  dress  and  courtly  aspect,  that  he  was  one 
of  the  king's  friends." 

"  There  never  was  a  greater  contrast  than  between 
Samuel  Adams  and  John  Hancock,"  said  Grandfather. 
'*  Yet  they  were  of  the  same  side  in  politics,  and  had 
an  equal  agency  in  the  revolution.  Hancock  was 
born  to  the  inheritance  of  the  largest  fortune  in  K  ew 
England.  His  tastes  and  habits  were  aristocratic. 
He  loved  gorgeous  attire,  a  splendid  mansion,  mag- 
nificent furniture,  stately  festivals,  and  all  that  was 
glittering    and    pompous    in   external    things.      His 


grandfather's  chair.  209 

vo.ua tiers  were  so  polished  that  there  stood  not  a 
nobleman  at  the  footstool  of  King  George's  throne 
who  was  a  more  skilful  courtier  than  John  Hancock 
might  have  been.  Nevertheless,  he  in  his  embroi- 
dered clothes,  and  Samuel  Adams  in  his  threadbare 
coat,  wrought  together  in  the  cause  of  liberty.  Adams 
acted  from  pure  and  rigid  principle.  Hancock, 
though  he  loved  his  country,  yet  thought  quite  as 
much  of  his  own  popularity  as  he  did  of  the  people's 
rights.  It  is  remarkable  that  these  two  men,  so  very 
different  as  I  describe  them,  were  the  only  two  ex- 
empted from  pardon  by  the  king's  proclamation." 

On  the  next  leaf  of  the  book  was  the  portrait  of 
General  Joseph  "Warren.  Charley  recognized  the 
name,  and  said  that  here  was  a  greater  man  than 
either  Hancock  or  Adams. 

"  Warren  was  an  eloquent  and  able  patriot,"  replied 
Grandfather.  "He  deserves  a  lasting  memory  for 
his  zealous  efforts  in  behalf  of  liberty.  No  man's 
voice  was  more  powerful  in  Faneuil  Hall  than  Joseph 
Warren's.  If  his  death  had  not  happened  so  early 
in  the  contest,  he  would  probably  have  gained  a  high 
name  as  a  soldier." 

The  next  portrait  was  a  venerable  man,  who  held 
his  thumb  under  his  chin,  and,  through  his  spectacles, 
appeared  to  be  attentively  reading  a  manuscript. 

"  Here  we  see  the  most  illustrious  Boston  boy  that 
ever  lived,"  said  Grandfather.  "  This  is  Benjamin 
14 


210  grandfather's  chair. 

Franklin.  But  I  will  not  try  to  compress  into  a  few 
sentences  the  character  of  the  sage,  who,  as  a  French- 
man expressed  it,  snatched  the  lightning  from  the 
sky  and  the  sceptre  from  a  tyrant.  Mr.  Sparks  must 
help  you  to  the  knowledge  of  Franklin." 

The  book  likewise  contained  portraits  of  James 
Otis  and  Josiah  Quincy.  Both  of  them,  Grandfather 
observed,  were  men  of  wonderful  talents  and  true 
patriotism.  Their  voices  were  like  the  stirring  tones 
of  *  trumpet  arousing  the  country  to  defend  its  free- 
dom. Heaven  seemed  to  have  provided  a  greater 
number  of  eloquent  men  than  had  appeared  at  any 
other  period,  in  order  that  the  people  might  be 
fully  instructed  as  to  their  wrongs  and  the  method 
of  resistance. 

"  It  is  marvellous,"  said  Grandfather,  "  to  see  how 
many  powerful  writers,  orators,  and  soldiers  started 
up  just  at  the  time  when  they  were  wanted.  There 
was  a  man  for  every  kind  of  work.  It  is  equally 
wonderful  that  men  of  such  different  characters  were 
ail  made  to  unite  in  the  one  object  of  establishing  the 
freedom  and  independence  of  America.  There  was 
an  overruling  Providence  above  them." 

"  Here  was  another  great  man,"  remarked  Lau> 
rence,  pointing  to  the  portrait  of  John  Adams. 

"  Yes  ;  an  earnest,  warm-tempered,  honest,  and 
most  able  man,"  said  Grandfather.  "At  the  period 
of  which  we  are  now  speaking  he  was  a  lawyer  in 


grandfather's  chair.  211 

Boston.  He  was  destined  in  after  years  to  be  ruler 
over  the  wliole  American  people,  whom  he  contrib- 
uted so  much  to  form  into  a  nation." 

Grandfather  here  remarked  that  many  a  New 
Englander,  who  had  passed  his  boyhood  and  youth 
in  obscurity,  afterward  attained  to  a  fortune  which  he 
never  could  have  foreseen  even  in  his  most  ambitious 
dreams.  John  Adams,  the  second  President  of  the 
United  States  and  the  equal  of  crowned  kings,  was 
once  a  schoolmaster  and  country  lawyer.  Hancock, 
the  first  signer  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence, 
served  his  apprenticeship  with  a  merchant.  Samuel 
Adams,  afterwards  governor  of  Massachusetts,  was  a 
small  tradesman  and  a  tax  gatherer.  General  AVarren 
was  a  physician,  General  Lincoln  a  farmer,  and  Gen- 
eral Knox  a  bookbinder.  General  Nathaniel  Greene, 
the  best  soldier,  except  "Washington,  in  the  revolu- 
tionary army,  was  a  Quaker  and  a  blacksmith.  All 
these  became  illustrious  men,  and  can  never  be  for- 
gotten in  American  history. 

"  And  any  boy  who  is  born  in  America  may  look 
forward  to  the  same  things,"  said  our  ambitious  friend 
Charley. 

After  these  observations,  Grandfather  drew  the 
book  of  portraits  towards  him,  and  showed  the  chil- 
dren several  British  peers  and  members  of  Parliament 
who  had  exerted  themselves  either  for  or  against  the 
rights  of  America.     There  were  the  Earl  of  Butet 


212  grandfather's  chair. 

Mr.  Grenville,  and  Lord  North.  These  were  looked 
upon  as  deadly  enemies  to  our  country. 

Among  the  friends  of  America  was  Mr.  Pitt,  after- 
ward Earl  of  Chatham,  who  spent  so  much  of  his 
wondrous  eloquence  in  endeavoring  to  warn  Eng- 
land of  the  consequences  of  her  injustice.  He  fell 
down  on  the  floor  of  the  House  of  Lords  after  ut- 
tering almost  his  dying  words  in  defence  of  our  privi- 
leges as  freemen.  There  was  Edmund  Burke,  one 
of  the  wisest  men  and  greatest  orators  that  ever  the 
world  produced.  There  was  Colonel  Bane,  who  had 
been  among  our  fathers,  and  knew  that  they  had 
courage  enough  to  die  for  their  rights.  There  was 
Charles  James  Fox,  who  never  rested  until  he  had 
silenced  our  enemies  in  the  House  of  Commons. 

"  It  is  very  remarkable  to  observe  how  many  of 
the  ablest  orators  in  the  British  Parliament  were 
favorable  to  America,"  said  Grandfather.  "  We 
ought  to  remember  these  great  Englishmen  with 
gratitude  ;  for  their  speeches  encouraged  our  fathers 
almost  as  much  as  those  of  our  own  orators  in  Fan- 
euil  Hall  and  under  Liberty  Tree.  Opinions  which 
might  have  been  received  with  doubt,  if  expressed 
only  by  a  native  American,  were  set  down  as  true, 
beyond  dispute,  when  they  came  from  the  lips  of 
Chatham,  Burke,  Barre,  or  Fox." 

"  But,  Grandfather,"  asked  Laurence,  "  were  there 
no  able  and  eloquent  men  in  this  country  who  took 
the  part  of  King  George  ?  " 


GRANDFATHER  S    CHAIR.  213 

"  There  were  many  men  of  talent  who  sa.id  what 
they  could  in  defence  of  the  king's  tyrannical  pro- 
ceedings," replied  Grandfather.  "  But  they  had  the 
worst  side  of  the  argument,  and  therefore  seldom 
said  any  thing  worth  remembering.  Moreover,  their 
hearts  were  faint  and  feeble  ;  for  they  felt  that  the 
people  scorned  and  detested  them.  They  had  no 
friends,  no  defence,  except  in  the  bayonets  of  the 
British  troops.  A  blight  fell  upon  all  their  facul- 
ties, because  they  were  contending  against  the  rights 
of  their  own  native  land." 

"  What  were  the  names  of  some  of  them  ? "  in- 
quired Charley. 

"  Governor  Hutchinson,  Chief  Justice  Oliver,  Judge 
Auchmuty,  the  Reverend  Mather  Byles,  and  several 
other  clergymen,  were  among  the  most  noted  loyal- 
ists," answered  Grandfather. 

"  I  wish  the  people  had  tarred  and  feathered  every 
man  of  them  !  "  cried  Charley. 

"  That  wish  is  very  wrong,  Charley,"  said  Grand- 
father. "  You  must  not  think  that  there  was  no  in- 
tegrity and  honor  except  among  those  who  stood  up 
for  the  freedom  of  America.  For  aught  I  know, 
there  was  quite  as  much  of  these  qualities  on  one 
side  as  on  the  other.  Do  you  see  nothing  admirable 
in  a  faithful  adherence  to  an  unpopular  cause  ?  Can 
you  not  respect  that  principle  of  loyalty  which  made 
the  royalists  give  up  country,  friends,  fortune,  every 


214  grandfather's  chair. 

thing,  rather  than  be  false  to  their  king  ?  It  was  a 
mistaken  principle  ;  but  many  of  them  cherished  it 
honorably,  and  were  martyrs  to  it." 

"  0,  I  was  wrong  ! "  said  Charley,  ingenuously. 
"  And  I  would  risk  my  life  rather  than  one  of  those 
good  old  royalists  should  be  tarred  and  feathered." 

"  The  time  is  now  come  when  we  may  judge  fairly 
of  them,"  continued  Grandfather.  "  Be  the  good 
and  true  men  among  them  honored  ;  for  they  were 
as  much  our  countrymen  as  the  patriots  were.  And, 
thank  Heaven,  our  country  need  not  be  ashamed  of 
her  sons,  —  of  most  of  them  at  least,  —  whatever  side 
they  took  in  the  revolutionary  contest." 

Among  the  portraits  was  one  of  King  George  III. 
Little  Alice  clapped  her  hands,  and  seemed  pleased 
with  the  bluff  good  nature  of  his  physiognomy.  But 
Laurence  thought  it  strange  that  a  man  with  such  a 
face,  indicating  hardly  a  common  share  of  intellect, 
should  have  had  influence  enough  on  human  affairs 
to  convulse  the  world  with  war.  Grandfather  ob- 
served that  this  poor  king  had  always  appeared  to 
him  one  of  the  most  unfortunate  persons  that  ever 
lived.  He  was  so  honest  and  conscientious,  that,  if 
he  had  been  only  a  private  man,  his  life  would  prob 
ably  have  been  blameless  and  happy.  But  his  was 
that  worst  of  fortunes  —  to  be  placed  in  a  station  far 
beyond  his  abilities. 

"  And  so,"  said  Grandfather,  "  his  life,  while  ha 


grandfather's  chair.  215 

retainsd  what  intellect  Heaven  had  gifted  him  with, 
was  one  long  mortification.  At  last  he  grew  crazed 
with  care  and  trouble.  For  nearly  twenty  years  the 
monarch  of  England  was  confined  as  a  madman.  In 
his  old  age,  too,  God  took  away  his  eyesight ;  so  that 
his  royal  palace  was  nothing  to  him  but  a  dark,  lone- 
some prison  house 


CHAPTER   % ,     , 

"  Our  old  chair,"  resumed  Grandfather,  "  did 
not  now  stand  in  the  midst  of  a  gay  circle  of  British 
officers.  The  troops,  as  I  told  you,  had  been  re- 
moved to  Castle  William  immediately  after  the 
Boston  massacre.  Still,  however,  there  were  many 
tories,  custom-house  officers,  and  Englishmen  who 
used  to  assemble  in  the  British  Coffee  House  and 
talk  over  the  affairs  of  the  period.  Matters  grew 
worse  and  worse;  and  in  1773  the  people  did  a 
deed  which  incensed  the  king  and  ministry  more 
than  any  of  their  former  doings." 

Grandfather  here  described  the  affair,  which  is 
known  by  the  name  of  the  Boston  Tea  Party.  The 
Americans,  for  some  time  past,  had  left  off  importing 
tea,  on  account  of  the  oppressive  tax.  The  East 
India  Company,  in  London,  had  a  large  stock  of  tea 
on  hand,  which  they  had  expected  to  sell  to  the 
Americans,  but  could  find  no  market  for  it.  But, 
after  a  while,  the  government  persuaded  this  com- 
pany of  merchants  to  send  the  tea  to  America. 

(216) 


grandfather's  chair.  217 

"  How  odd  it  is,"  observed  Clara,  "  that  the 
.Kberties  of  America  should  have  had  any  thing  to  do 
with  a  cup  of  tea ! " 

Grandfather  smiled,  and  proceeded  with  his  narra- 
tive. When  the  people  of  Boston  heard  that  several 
cargoes  of  tea  were  coming  across  the  Atlantic,  they 
held  a  great  many  meetings  at  Faneuil  Hall,  in  the 
Old  South  Church,  and  under  Liberty  Tree.  In 
the  midst  of  their  debates,  three  ships  arrived  in  tho 
harbor  with  the  tea  on  board.  The  people  spent 
more  than  a  fortnight  in  consulting  what  should  be 
done.  At  last,  on  the  16th  of  December,  1773, 
they  demanded  of  Governor  Hutchinson  that  he 
should  immediately  send  the  ships  back  to  Eng- 
land. 

The  governor  replied  that  the  ships  must  not 
leave  the  harbor  until  the  custom-house  duties  upon 
the  tea  should  be  paid.  Now,  the  payment  of  these 
duties  was  the  very  thing  against  which  the  people 
had  set  their  faces;  because  it  was  a  tax  unjustly 
imposed  upon  America  by  the  English  government. 
Therefore,  in  the  dusk  of  the  evening,  as  soon  as 
Governor  Hutchinson's  reply  was  received,  an  im- 
mense crowd  hastened  to  Griffin's  Wharf,  where 
the  tea  ships  lay.  The  place  is  now  called  Liverpool 
Wharf. 

"  When  the  crowd  reached  the  wharf,"  said 
Grandfather,  "  they  saw  that  a  set  of  wild-looking 


218  grandfather's  chair. 

figures  were  already  on  board  of  the  ships  You 
would  hare  imagined  that  the  Indian  warriors  of 
old  times  had  come  back  again ;  for  they  wore  the 
Indian  dress,  and  had  their  faces  cohered  with  red 
and  black  paint,  like  the  Indians  when  they  go 
to  war.  These  grim  figures  hoisted  the  tea  chests 
on  the  decks  of  the  vessels,  broke  them  open,  and 
threw  all  the  contents  into  the  harbor." 

"  Grandfather,"  said  little  Alice,  "  I  suppose  In- 
dians don't  love  tea ;  else  they  would  never  waste 
it  so." 

"  They  were  not  real  Indians,  my  child,"  an- 
swered Grandfather.  "  They  were  white  men  in 
disguise ;  because  a  heavy  punishment  would  have 
been  inflicted  on  them  if  the  king's  officers  had 
found  who  they  were.  But  it  was  never  known. 
From  that  day  to  this,  though  the  matter  has  been 
talked  of  by  all  the  world,  nobody  can  tell  the  names 
of  those  Indian  figures.  Some  people  say  that  there 
were  very  famous  men  among  them,  who  afterwards 
became  governors  and  generals.  Whether  this  be 
true,   I  cannot  tell." 

When  tidings  of  this  bold  deed  were  carried  to 
England,  King  George  was  greatly  enraged.  Par- 
liament immediately  passed  an  act,  by  which  all 
vessels  were  forbidden  to  take  in  or  discharge  their 
cargoes  at  the  Port  of  Boston.  In  this  way  they 
expected  to  ruin  all  the  merchants,  and  starve  the 


GRANDFATHER'S    CHAIR.  219 

poor  people,  by  depriving  them  of  employment. 
At  the  same  time  another  act  was  passed,  taking 
away  many  rights  and  privileges  which  had  been 
granted  in  the  charter  of  Massachusetts. 

Governor  Hutchinson,  soon  afterward,  was  sum- 
moned to  England,  in  order  that  he  might  give  his 
advice  about  the  management  of  American  affairs. 
General  Gage,  an  officer  of  the  old  French  war, 
and  since  commander-in-chief  of  the  British  forces 
in  America,  was  appointed  governor  in  his  stead. 
One  of  his  first  acts  was  to  make  Salem,  instead 
of  Boston,  the  metropolis  of  Massachusetts,  by  sum- 
moning the  general  court  to  meet  there. 

According  to  Grandfather's  description,  this  was 
the  most  gloomy  time  that  Massachusetts  had  ever 
seen.  The  people  groaned  under  as  heavy  a  tyranny 
as  in  the  days  of  Sir  Edmund  Andros.  Boston 
looked  as  if  it  were  afflicted  with  some  dreadful 
pestilence  —  so  sad  were  the  inhabitants,  and  so 
desolate  the  streets.  There  was  no  cheerful  hum 
of  business.  The  merchants  shut  up  their  ware- 
houses, and  the  laboring  men  stood  idle  about  the 
wharves.  But  all  America  felt  interested  in  the 
good  town  of  Boston ;  and  contributions  were  raised, 
in  many  places,  for  the  relief  of  the  poor  inhab- 
itants. 

"  Our  dear  old  chair  !  "  exclaimed  Clara.  "  How 
dismal  it  must  have  been  now  1 " 


220  grandfather's  chair 

"  O,"  replied  Grandfather,  "  a  gay  throng  of 
officers  had  now  come  back  to  the  British  Coffee 
House ;  so  that  the  old  chair  had  no  lack  of  mirthful 
company.  Soon  after  General  Gage  became  gov- 
ernor a  great  many  troops  had  arrived,  and  were 
encamped  upon  the  Common.  Boston  was  now  a 
garrisoned  and  fortified  town  ;  for  the  general  had 
built  a  battery  across  the  Neck,  on  the  road  to  Box- 
bury,  and  placed  guards  for  its  defence  Every 
thing  looked  as  if  a  civil  war  were  close  at  hand.'' 

"  Did  the  people  make  ready  to  fight  ? "  asked 
Charley. 

"  A  Continental  Congress  assembled  at  Phila- 
delphia," said  Grandfather,  "  and  proposed  such 
measures  as  they  thought  most  conducive  to  the 
public  good.  A  Provincial  Congress  was  likewise 
chosen  in  Massachusetts.  They  exhorted  the  peo- 
ple to  arm  and  discipline  themselves.  A  great 
number  of  minute  men  were  enrolled.  The  Ameri- 
cans called  them  minute  men,  because  they  engaged 
to  be  ready  to  fight  at  a  minute's  warning.  The 
English  officers  laughed,  and  said  that  the  name  was 
a  very  proper  one,  because  the  minute  men  would 
run  away  the  minute  they  saw  the  enemy.  "Whether 
they  would  fight  or  run  was  soon  to  be  proved." 

Grandfather  told  the  children  that  the  first  open 
resistance  offered  to  the  British  troops,  in  the  Prov- 
ince  of  Massachusetts,  was  at  Salem.     Colonel  Tim 


grandfather's  chair.  'ii\ 

othy  Pickering,  with  thirty  or  forty  militia  men, 
prevented  the  English  colonel,  Leslie,  with  foui 
times  as  many  regular  soldiers,  from  taking  posses- 
sion of  some  military  stores.  No  blood  was  shed  on 
this  occasion ;  but  soon  afterward  it  began  to  flow. 

General*  Gage  sent  eight  hundred  soldiers  to  Con- 
cord, about  eighteen  miles  from  Boston,  to  destroy 
some  ammunition  and  provisions  "which  the  colonists 
had  collected  there.  They  set  out  on  their  march 
in  the  evening  of  the  18th  of  April,  1775.  The 
next  morning,  the  general  sent  Lord  Percy  with 
nine  hundred  men  to  strengthen  the  troops  that  had 
gone  before.  All  that  day  the  inhabitants  of  Boston 
heard  various  rumors.  Some  said  that  the  British 
were  making  great  slaughter  among  our  countrymen. 
Others  affirmed  that  every  man  had  turned  out  with 
his  musket,  and  that  not  a  single  soldier  would  ever 
get  back  to  Boston. 

"  It  was  after  sunset,"  continued  Grandfather, 
:i  when  the  troops,  who  had  marched  forth  so  proudly, 
were  seen  entering  Charlestown.  They  were  cov- 
ered with  dust,  and  so  hot  and  weary  that  their 
tongues  hung  out  of  their  mouths.  Many  of  them 
were  faint  with  wounds.  They  had  not  all  returned. 
Nearly  three  hundred  were  strown,  dead  or  dying, 
along  the  road  from  Concord.  The  yeomanry  had 
risen  upor  the  invaders  and  driven  them  back  " 


222  grandfather's  chair. 

"  Was    this    the   battle    of    Lexington  ? "     asked 

Charley. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Grandfather ;  "  it  was  so  called, 
because  the  British,  without  provocation,  had  fired 
upon  a  party  of  minute  men,  near  Lexington  meet- 
ing house,  and  killed  eight  of  them.  That  fatal 
volley,  which  was  fired  by  order  of  Major  Pitcairn, 
began  the  war  of  the  revolution." 

About  this  time,  if  Grandfather  had  been  correctly 
informed,  our  chair  disappeared  from  the  British 
Coffee  House.  The  manner  of  its  departure  cannot 
be  satisfactorily  ascertained.  Perhaps  the  keeper  of 
the  Coffee  House  turned  it  out  of  doors  on  account 
of  its  old-fashioned  aspect.  Perhaps  he  sold  it  as  a 
curiosity.  Perhaps  it  was  taken,  without  leave,  by 
some  person  who  regarded  it  as  public  property  be- 
cause it  had  once  figured  under  Liberty  Tree.  Or 
perhaps  the  old  chair,  being  of  a  peaceable  disposi- 
tion, had  made  use  of  its  four  oaken  legs  and  run 
away  from  the  seat  of  war. 

"  It  would  have  made  a  terrible  clattering  over  the 
pavement,"  said  Charley,  laughing. 

"  Meanwhile,"  continued  Grandfather,  "  during 
the  mysterious  non-appearance  of  our  chair,  an  army 
of  twenty  thousand  men  had  started  up  and  come  to 
the  siege  of  Boston.  General  Gage  and  his  troops 
were  cooped  up  within  the  narrow  precincts  of  the 


grandfather's  chair.  223 

peninsula  On  the  17th  of  June,  1115,  the  famous 
battle  of  Bunker  Hill  was  fought.  Here  General 
Warren  fell.  The  British  got  the  victory,  indeed, 
but  with  the  loss  of  more  than  a  thousand  officer's 
and  men." 

"  O  Grandfather,"  cried  Charley,  "  you  must  tell 
us  about  that  famous  battle." 

"  No,  Charley,"  said  Grandfather,  "  I  am  not  like 
other  historians.  Battles  shall  not  hold  a  prominent 
place  in  the  history  of  our  quiet  and  comfortable  old 
chair.  But  to-morrow  evening,  Laurence,  Clara, 
and  yourself,  and  dear  little  Alice  too,  shall  visit  the 
Diorama  of  Bunker  Hill.  There  you  shall  see  the 
whole  business,  the  burning  of  Charlestown  and  all, 
with  your  own  eyes,  and  hear  the  cannon  and  mus- 
ketiy  with  vour  own  ears." 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

The  next  evening  but  one,  when  the  children  had 
given  Grandfather  a  full  account  of  the  Diorama  of 
Bunker  Hill,  they  entreated  him  not  to  keep  them 
any  longer  in  suspense  about  the  fate  of  his  chair. 
The  reader  will  recollect  that,  at  the  last  accounts,  it 
had  trotted  away  upon  its  poor  old  legs  nobody  knew 
whither.  But,  before  gratifying  their  curiosity, 
Grandfather  found  it  necessary  to  say  something 
about  public  events. 

The  Continental  Congress,  which  was  assembled 
at  Philadelphia,  was  composed  of  delegates  from  all 
the  colonies.  They  had  now  appointed  George 
"Washington,  of  Virginia,  to  be  commander-in-chief 
of  all  the  American  armies.  He  was,  at  that  time,  a 
member  of  Congress  ;  but  immediately  left  Philadel- 
phia, and  began  his  journey  to  Massachusetts.  On 
the  3d  of  July,  1775,  he  arrived  at  Cambridge,  and 
took  command  of  the  troops  which  were  besieging 
General  Gage. 

"  O  Grandfather,"  exclaimed  Laurence,  "  it  makes 

(224) 


grandfather's  chair.  225 

my  heart  throb  to  think  what  is  coming  now.  We 
are  to  see  General  Washington  himself." 

The  children  crowded  around  Granlfather  and 
looked  earnestly  into  his  face.  Even  little  Alice 
opened  her  sweet  blue  eyes,  with  her  lips  apart, 
and  almost  held  her  breath  to  listen ;  so  instinctive 
is  the  reverence  of  childhood  for  the  father  of  hia 
country.  Grandfather  paused  a  moment ;  for  he 
felt  as  if  it  might  be  irreverent  to  introduce  the  hal- 
lowed shade  of  Washington  into  a  history  where  an 
ancient  elbow  chair  occupied  the  most  prominent 
place.  However,  he  determined  to  proceed  with  hia 
narrative,  and  speak  of  the  hero  when  it  was  needful, 
but  with  an  unambitious  simplicity. 

So  Grandfather  told  his  auditors,  that,  on  General 
Washington's  arrival  at  Cambridge,  his  first  care  wag 
to  reconnoitre  the  British  troops  with  his  spyglass, 
and  to  examine  the  condition  of  his  own  army.  He 
found  that  the  American  troops  amounted  to  about 
fourteen  thousand  men.  They  were  extended  all 
round  the  peninsula  of  Boston,  a  space  of  twelve 
miles,  from  the  high  grounds  of  Roxbury  on  the 
right  to  Mystic  River  on  the  left.  Some  were  living 
in  tents  of  sailcloth,  some  in  shanties  rudely  con- 
structed of  boards,  some  in  huts  of  stone  or  turf, 
with  curious  windows  and  doors  of  basket  work. 

In  order  to  be  near  the  centre  and  oversee  the 
whole  of  this  widestretched  army,  the  commander* 
15 


226  GRANDFATHER  S    CHAIK. 

in-chief  made  his  head  quarters  at  Cambridge,  about 
half  a  mile  from  the  colleges.  A  mansion  house, 
which  perhaps  had  been  the  country  seat  of  some 
tory  gentleman,  was  provided  for  his  residence. 

"  When  General  Washington  first  entered  this 
mansion,"  said  Grandfather,  "  he  was  ushered  up  the 
staircase  and  shown  into  a  handsome  apartment. 
He  sat  down  in  a  large  chair,  which  was  the  most 
conspicuous  object  in  the  room.  The  noble  figure 
of  Washington  would  have  done  honor  to  a  throne. 
As  he  sat  there,  with  bis  hand  resting  on  the  hilt  of 
his  sheathed  sword,  which  was  placed  between  his 
knees,  his  whole  aspect  well  befitted  the  chosen  man 
on  whom  his  country  leaned  for  the  defence  of  her 
dearest  rights.  America  seemed  safe  under  his  pro- 
tection. His  face  was  grander  than  any  sculptor  had 
ever  wrought  in  marble ;  none  could  behold  him 
without  awe  and  reverence.  Never  before  had  the 
lion's  head  at  the  summit  of  the  chair  looked  down 
upon  such  a  face  and  form  as  Washington's." 

"  Why,  Grandfather  !  "  cried  Clara,  clasping  her 
hands  in  amazement,  "  was  it  really  so  ?  Did  Gen- 
eral Washington  sit  in  our  great  chair  ?  " 

"  I  knew  how  it  would  be,"  said  Laurence ;  "  I 
foresaw  it  the  moment  Grandfather  began  to  speak." 

Grandfather  smiled.  But,  turning  from  the  per- 
gonal and  domestic  life  of  the  illustrious  leader,  he 
spoke  of  the  methods  which  Washington  adopted  to 


GRANDFATHER  S    CHAIR.  227 

«vm  back  the  metropolis  of  New  England  from  the 
British. 

The  army,  when  he  took  command  of  it,  was  with- 
out aiy  discipline  or  order.  The  privates  considered 
themselves  as  good  as  their  officers ;  and  seldom 
thought  it  necessary  to  obey  their  commands,  unless 
they  understood  the  why  and  wherefore.  Moreover, 
they  were  enlisted  for  so  short  a  period,  that,  as  soon 
as  they  began  to  be  respectable  soldiers,  it  was  time 
to  discharge  them.  Then  came  new  recruits,  who 
had  to  be  taught  their  duty  before  they  could  be  of 
•my  service.  Such  was  the  army  with  which  Wash- 
ington had  to  contend  against  more  than  twenty 
veteran   British  regiments. 

Some  of  the  men  had  no  muskets,  and  almost  all 
were  without  bayonets.  Heavy  cannon,  for  battering 
the  British  fortifications,  were  much  wanted.  There 
was  but  a  small  quantity  of  powder  and  ball,  few 
tools  to  build  intrenchments  with,  and  a  great  defi- 
ciency of  provisions  and  clothes  for  the  soldiers. 
Yet,  in  spite  of  these  perplexing  difficulties,  the 
eyes  of  the  whole  people  were  fixed  on  General 
Washington,  expecting  him  to  undertake  some  great 
enterprise  against  the  hostile  army. 

The  first  thing  that  he  found  necessary  was,  to 
bring  his  own  men  into  better  order  and  discipline. 
It  is  wonderful  how  soon  he  transformed  this  rough 


228  grandfather's  chair. 

mob  of  country  people  into  the  semblance  of  a  regular 
army.  One  of  Washington's  most  invaluable  charac- 
teristics was,  the  faculty  of  bringing  order  out  of  con- 
fusion. All  business  with  which  he  had  any  con- 
cern seemed  to  regulate  itself  as  if  by  magic.  The 
influence  of  his  mind  was  like  light  gleaming 
through  an  unshaped  world.  It  was  this  faculty, 
more  than  any  other,  that  made  him  so  fit  to  ride 
upon  the  storm  of  the  revolution  when  every  thing 
was  unfixed  and  drifting  about  in  a  troubled  sea. 

f '  Washington  had  not  been  long '  at  the  head  of 
the  army,"  proceeded  Grandfather,  "before  his  sol- 
diers thought  as  highly  of  him  as  if  he  had  led  them 
to  a  hundred  victories.  They  knew  that  he  was  the 
very  man  whom  the  country  needed,  and  the  only 
one  who  could  bring  them  safely  through  the  great 
contest  against  the  might  of  England.  They  put 
entire  confidence  in  his  courage,  wisdom,  and  integ- 
rity." 

"  And  were  they  not  eager  to  follow  him  against 
the  British  ?  "  asked  Charley. 

"  Doubtless  they  would  have  gone  whithersoever 
his  sword  pointed  the  way,"  answered  Grandfather 
"  and  Washington  was  anxious  to  make  a  decisive 
assault  upon  the  enemy.  But  as  the  enterprise  was 
very  hazardous,  he  called  a  council  of  all  the  generals 
in   the   arm)       Accordingly,  they  came   from   their 


uranbfather's  chair.  229 

different  ^osts,  and  were  ushered  into  the  reception 
room.  The  commander-in-chief  arose  from  our 
great  chair  to  greet  them." 

"  What  were  their  names  ?  "  asked  Charley. 

"  There  was  General  Arteraas  Ward,"  replied 
Grandfather,  "a  lawyer  by  profession.  He  had 
commanded  the  troops  before  Washington's  arrival 
Another  was  General  Charles  Lee,  who  had  been  a 
colonel  in  the  English  army,  and  was  thought  to 
possess  vast  military  science.  He  came  to  the 
council,  followed  by  two  or  three  dogs  which  were 
always  at  his  heels.  There  was  General  Putnam, 
too,  who  was  known  all  over  New  England  by  the 
name  of  Old  Put." 

"  Was  it  he  who  killed  the  wolf  ? "  inquired 
Charley. 

"The  same,"  said  Grandfather;  "and  he  had 
done  good  service  in  the  old  French  war.  His 
occupation  was  that  of  a  farmer ;  but  he  left  his 
plough  in  the  furrow  at  the  news  of  Lexington 
battle.  Then  there  was  General  Gates,  who  after- 
ward gained  great  renown  at  Saratoga,  and  lost  it 
again  at  Camden.  General  Greene,  of  Rhode  Island, 
was  likewise  at  the  council.  Washington  soon  discov- 
ered him  to  be  one  of  the  best  officers  in  the  army." 

When  the  generals  were  all  assembled,  Washing- 
ton consulted  them  about  a  plan  for  storming  the 
English   batteries.      But    it    was    their    unanimous 


230  GRANDFATHER  S    CHAIR. 

opinion  that  so  perilous  an  enterprise  ought  not  to 
be  attempted.  The  army,  therefore,  continued  to 
besiege  Boston,  preventing  the  enemy  from  obtaining 
supplies  of  provisions,  but  without  taking  any  imme- 
diate measures  to  get  possession  of  the  town.  In  this 
manner  the  summer,  autumn,  and  winter  passed  away. 

"  Many  a  night,  doubtless,"  said  Grandfather, 
(l  after  Washington  had  been  all  day  on  horseback, 
galloping  from  one  post  of  the  army  to  another,  he 
used  to  sit  in  our  great  chair,  rapt  in  earnest 
thought.  Had  you  seen  him,  you  might  have  sup- 
posed that  his  "whole  mind  was  fixed  on  the  blue 
china  tiles  which  adorned  the  old-fashioned  fire- 
place. But,  in  reality,  he  was  meditating  how  to 
capture  the  British  army,  or  drive  it  out  of  Boston. 
Once,  when  there  was  a  hard  frost,  he  formed  a 
scheme  to  cross  the  Charles  River  on  the  ice.  But 
the  other  generals  could  not  be  persuaded  that  there 
was  any  prospect  of  success." 

"  What  were  the  British  doing  all  this  time  ?  " 
inquired  Charley. 

"  They  lay  idle  in  the  town,"  replied  Grandfather. 
"  General  Gage  had  been  recalled  to  England,  and 
was  succeeded  by  Sir  William  Howe.  The  British 
army  and  the  inhabitants  of  Boston  were  now  in 
great  distress.  Being  shut  up  in  the  town  so  long, 
they  had  consumed  almost  all  their  provisions  and 
burned  up  all  their  fuel.     The  soldiers  tore  down  the 


grandfather's  chair.  231 

Old  North  Church,  and  used  its  rotten  boards  and 
timbers  for  firewood.  To  heighten  their  distress,  the 
small  pox  broke  out.  They  probably  lost  far  more 
men  by  cold,  hunger,  and  sickness  than  had  been 
slain  at  Lexington  and  Bunker   Hill." 

"  What  a  dismal  time  for  the  poor  women  and 
children  !  "  exclaimed  Clara. 

"At  length,"  continued  Grandfather,  "in  March, 
1776,  General  "Washington,  who  had  now  a  good 
supply  of  powder,  began  a  terrible  cannonade  and 
bombardment  from  Dorchester  Heights.  One  of  the 
cannon  balls  which  he  fired  into  the  town  struck  the 
tower  of  the  Brattle  Street  Church,  where  it  may  still 
be  seen.  Sir  William  Howe  made  preparations  to 
cross  over  in  boats  and  drive  the  Americans  from 
their  batteries,  but  was  prevented  by  a  violent  gale 
and  storm.  General  Washington  next  erected  a 
battery  on  Nook's  Hill,  so  near  the  enemy  that  it  was 
impossible  for  them  to  remain  in  Boston  any  longer." 

"  Hurrah  !  Hurrah  !  "  cried  Charley,  clapping  his 
hands  triumphantly.  "  I  wish  I  had  been  there  to 
see  how  sheepish  the  Englishmen  looked." 

And  as  Grandfather  thought  that  Boston  had  never 
witnessed  a  more  interesting  period  than  this,  when 
the  royal. power  was  in  its  death  agony,  he  deter- 
mined to  take  a  peep  into  the  town  and  imagine  the 
feelings  of  those  who  were  quitting  it  forever- 


CHAPTER  IX. 

"  Alas  fcr  the  poor  tories !  "  said  Grandfather. 
"  Until  the  very  last  morning  after  Washington's 
troops  had  shown  themselves  on  Nook's  Hill,  these 
unfortunate  persons  could  not  believe  that  the  auda- 
cious rebels,  as  they  called  the  Americans,  would 
ever  prevail  against  King  George's  army.  But  when 
they  saw  the  British  soldiers  preparing  to  embark  on 
board  of  the  ships  of  war,  then  they  knew  that  thej 
had  lost  their  country.  Could  the  patriots  have 
known  how  bitter  were  their  regrets,  they  would 
have  forgiven  them  all  their  evil  deeds,  and  sent 
a  blessing  after  them  as  they  sailed  away  from  their 
native  shore." 

In  order  to  make  the  children  sensible  of  the  piti- 
able condition  of  these  men,  Grandfather  singled  out 
Peter  Oliver,  chief  justice  of  Massachusetts  under  the 
crown,  and  imagined  him  walking  through  the  streeti 
of  Boston  on  the  morning  before  he  left  it  for 
ever. 

(23a) 


grandfather's  chair.,  233 

This  effort  of  Grandfather's  fancy  may  be  called 

THE  TORY'S   FAREWELL. 

OJd  Chief  Justice  Oliver  threw  on  his  red  cloak, 
and  placed  his  three-cornered  hat  on  the  top  of  his 
white  wig.  In  this  garb  he  intended  to  go  forth  and 
take  a  parting  look  at  objects  that  had  been  familiar 
to  him  from  his  youth.  Accordingly,  he  began  his 
walk  in  the  north  part  of  the  town,  and  soon  came  to 
Faneuil  Hall.  This  edifice,  the  cradle  of  liberty, 
had  been  used  by  the  British  officers  as  a  play- 
house. 

"  Would  that  I  could  see  its  walls  crumble  to 
dust !  "  thought  the  chief  justice  ;  and,  in  the  bitter- 
ness of  his  heart,  he  shook  his  fist  at  the  famous 
hall.  "  There  began  the  mischief  which  now  threatens 
to  rend  asunder  the  British  empire.  The  seditious 
harangues  of  demagogues  in  Faneuil  Hall  have  made 
rebels  of  a  loyal  people  and  deprived  me  of  my 
country." 

He  then  passed  through  a  narrow  avenue  and 
found  himself  in  King  Street,  almost  on  the  very  spot 
which,  six  years  before,  had  been  reddened  by  the 
blood  of  the  Boston  massacre.  The  chief  justice 
stepped  cautiously,  and  shuddered,  as  if  he  were 
afraid  that,  even  now,  the  gore  of  his  slaughtered 
countrvmen  might  stain  his  feet. 


234  grandfather's  chair. 

Before  him  rose  the  Town  House,  on  the  front  of 
which  were  still  displayed  the  royal  arms.  Within 
that  edifice  he  had  dispensed  justice  to  the  people  in 
the  days  when  his  name  was  never  mentioned  without 
honor.  There,  too,  was  the  balcony  whence  the 
trumpet  had  been  sounded  and  the  proclamation  read 
to  an  assembled  multitude,  whenever  a  new  King  of 
England  ascended  the  throne. 

"  I  remember  —  I  remember,"  said  Chief  Justice 
Oliver  to  himself,  "  when  his  present  most  sacred 
majesty  was  proclaimed.  Then  how  the  people 
shouted !  Each  man  would  have  poured  out  his  life- 
blood  to  keep  a  hair  of  King  George's  head  from 
harm.  But  now  there  is  scarcely  a  tongue  in  all 
New  England  that  does  not  imprecate  curses  on  his 
name.  It  is  ruin  and  disgrace  to  love  him.  Can 
it  be  possible  that  a  few  fleeting  years  have  wrought 
such  a  change  ?  " 

It  did  not  occur  to  the  chief  justice  that  nothing 
but  the  most  grievous  tyranny  could  so  soon  have 
changed  the  people's  hearts.  Hurrying  from  the  spot, 
he  entered  Cornhill,  as  the  lower  part  of  Washington 
Street  was  then  called.  Opposite  to  the  Town  House 
was  the  waste  foundation  of  the  Old  North  Church. 
The  sacrilegious  hands  of  the  British  soldiers  had 
torn  it  down,  and  kindled  their  barrack  fires  with  the 
fragments. 

Farther  on  he  passed  beneath  the  tower  of  the 


GRANDFATHER  S    CHAIR.  235 

Old  South.  The  threshold  of  this  sacred  edifice  was 
worn  by  the  iron  tramp  of  horses'  feet ;  for  the  in- 
terior had  been  used  as  a  riding  school  and  rendez- 
vous for  a  regiment  of  dragoons.  As  the  chief 
justice  lingered  an  instant  at  the  door  a  trumpet 
sounded  within,  and  the  regiment  came  clattering 
forth  and  galloped  down  the  street.  They  were  pro- 
ceeding to  the  place  of  embarkation. 

"  Let  them  go  !  "  thought  the  chief  justice,  with 
somewhat  of  an  old  Puritan  feeling  in  his  breast. 
"  No  good  can  come  of  men  who  desecrate  the  house 
of  God." 

He  went  on  a  few  steps  farther,  and  paused  before 
the  Province  House.  No  range  of  brick  stores  had 
then  sprung  up  to  hide  the  mansion  of  the  royal 
governors  from  public  view.  It  had  a  spacious  court 
yard,  bordered  with  trees,  and  enclosed  with  a 
wrought-iron  fence.  On  the  cupola  that  surmounted 
the  edifice  was  the  gilded  figure  of  an  Indian  chief, 
ready  to  let  fly  an  arrow  from  his  bow.  Over  the 
wide  front  door  was  a  balcony,  in  which  the  chief 
justice  had  often  stood  when  the  governor  and 
high  officers  of  the  province  showed  themselves  to 
the  people. 

While  Chief  Justice  Oliver  gazed  sadly  at  the 
Province  House,  before  which  a  sentinel  was  pacing, 
the  double  leaves  of  the  door  were  thrown  open,  and 
Sir  William   Howe  made  his  appearance.     Behind 


236  grandfather's  chair. 

him  came  a  throng  of  officers,  whose  steel  scabbards 
clattered  against  the  stones  as  they  hastened  down 
the  court  yard.  Sir  William  Howe  was  a  dark-com- 
plexioned man,  stern  and  haughty  in  his  deportment. 
He  stepped  as  proudly,  in  that  hour  of  defeat,  as  if 
he  were  going  to  receive  the  submission  of  the  rebel 
general. 

The  chief  justice  bowed  and  accosted  him. 

"  This  is  a  grievous  hour  for  both  of  us,  Sir  Wil- 
liam," said  he. 

"  Forward !  gentlemen,"  said  Sir  William  Howe 
to  the  officers  who  attended  him ;  "  we  have  no  time 
to  hear  lamentations  now." 

And,  coldly  bowing,  he  departed.  Thus  the 
chief  justice  had  a  foretaste  of  the  mortifications 
which  the  exiled  New  Englanders  afterwards  suffered 
from  the  haughty  Britons.  They  were  despised 
even  by  that  country  which  they  had  served  more 
faithfully  than  their  own. 

A  still  heavier  trial  awaited  Chief  Justice  Oliver, 
as  he  passed  onward  from  the  Province  House.  He 
was  recognized  by  the  people  in  the  street.  They 
had  long  known  him  as  the  descendant  of  an  ancient 
and  honorable  family.  They  had  seen  him  sitting  in^ 
his  scarlet  robes  upon  the  judgment  seat.  All  his 
life  long,  either  for  the  sake  of  his  ancestors  or  on 
account  of  his  own  dignified  station  and  unspotted 
character,  he  had  been  held  in  high   respect.      The 


grandfather's  chair.  237 

old  gentry  0/  the  province  were  looked  upon  almost 
as  noblemen  while  Massachusetts  was  under  royal 
government. 

But  now  all  hereditary  reverence  for  birth  and 
rank  was  gone.  The  inhabitants  shouted  in  derision 
when  they  saw  the  venerable  form  of  the  old  chief 
justice.  They  laid  the  wrongs  of  the  country  and 
their  own  sufferings  during  the  siege  —  their  hunger, 
cold,  and  sickness  —  partly  to  his  charge  and  to  that 
of  his  brother  Andrew  and  his  kinsman  Hutchinson. 
It  was  by  their  advice  that  the  king  had  acted  in  all 
the  colonial  troubles.  But  the  day  of  recompense 
was  come. 

"  See  the  old  tory !  "  cried  the  people,  with  bitter 
laughter.  "  He  is  taking  his  last  look  at  us.  Let 
him  show  his  white  wig  among  us  an  hour  hence, 
and  we'll  give  him  a  coat  of  tar  and  feathers !  " 

The  chief  justice,  however,  knew  that  he  need  fear 
no  violence  so  long  as  the  British  troops  were  in 
possession  of  the  town.  But,  alas  !  it  was  a  bitter 
thought  that  he  should  leave  no  loving  memory  be- 
nind  him.  His  forefathers,  long  after  their  spirits 
left  the  earth,  had  been  honored  in  the  affectionate 
•  remembrance  of  the  people.  But  he,  who  would 
henceforth  be  dead  to  his  native  land,  would  have  no 
epitaph  save  scornful  and  vindictive  Avords.  The  old 
man  wept. 

"  They  curse  me  —  they  invoke  all  kinds  of  evU 


238  grandfather's  chair. 

on  m)  head  !  "  thought  he,  m  the  midst  of  his  tears. 
"  But,  if  they  could  read  my  heart,  they  would  know 
that  I  love  New  England  well.  Heaven  bless  her, 
and  bring  her  again  under  the  rule  of  our  gracious 
king !  A  blessing,  too,  on  these  poor,  misguided 
people  !  " 

The  chief  justice  flung  out  his  hands  with  a  ges- 
ture, as  if  he  were  bestowing  a  parting  benediction  on 
his  countrymen.  He  had  now  reached  the  southern 
portion  of  the  toAvn,  and  was  far  within  the  range  of 
cannon  shot  from  the  American  batteries.  Close  be- 
side him  was  the  broad  stump  of  a  tree,  which  ap- 
peared to  have  been  recently  cut  down.  Being  weary 
and  heavy  at  heart,  he  was  about  to  sit  down  upon 
the  stump. 

Suddenly  it  flashed  upon  his  recollection  that  this 
was  the  stump  of  Liberty  Tree  !  The  British  soldiers 
had  cut  it  down,  vainly  boasting  that  they  could  as 
easily  overthrow  the  liberties  of  America.  Under  its 
shadowy  branches,  ten  years  before,  the  brother  of 
Chief  Justice  Oliver  had  been  compelled  to  acknowl- 
edge the  supremacy  of  the  people  by  taking  the  oath 
which  they  prescribed.  This  tree  was  connected 
with  all  the  events  that  had  severed  America  from 
England. 

"  Accursed  tree  !  "  cried  the  chief  justice,  gnash- 
ing his  teeth ;  for  anger  overcame  his  sorrow. 
"Would    that    thou    hadst    been    left    standing    till 


grandfather's  chair.  239 

Hancock.  Adams,  and  every  other  traitor  were 
hanged  upon  thy  branches  !  Then  fitly  mightest  thou 
have  been  hewn  down  and  cast  into  the  flames." 

lie  turned  back,  hurried  to  Long  Wharf  without 
looking  behind  him,  embarked  with  the  British 
troops  for  Halifax,  and  never  saw  his  country  more- 
Throughout  the  remainder  of  his  days  Chief  Justice 
Oliver  was  agitated  with  those  same  conflicting  emo- 
tions that  had  tortured  him  while  taking  his  farewell 
walk  through  the  streets  of  Boston.  Deep  love  and 
fierce  resentment  burned  in  one  flame  within  his 
breast.  Anathemas  struggled  with  benedictions. 
He  felt  as  if  one  breath  of  his  native  air  would  renew 
his  life,  yet  would  have  died  rather  than  breathe  the 
same  air  with  rebels.  And  such  likewise  were  the 
feelings  of  the  other  exiles,  a  thousand  in  number, 
who  departed  with  the  British  army.  Were  they 
not  the  most  unfortunate  of  men  ? 

"  The  misfortunes  of  those  exiled  tories,"  observed 
Laurence,  "  must  have  made  them  think  of  the  poor 
exiles  of  Acadia." 

"  They  had  a  sad  time  of  it,  I  suppose,"  said 
Charley.  "  But  I  choose  to  rejoice  with  the  patriots, 
rather  than  be  sorrowful  with  the  tories.  Grand- 
father, what  did  General  Washington  do  now  ?  " 

"  As  the  rear  of  the  British  army  embarked  from 
.he  wharf,"  replied  Grandfather,   "  General   Wash- 


240  GRANDFATHER  S    CHAIR. 

tngton's  troops  marched  over  the  Neck,  through  the 
fortification  gates,  and  entered  Boston  in  triumph. 
And  now,  for  the  first  time  since  the  Pilgrims 
landed,  Massachusetts  was  free  from  the  dominion  of 
England.  May  she  never  again  be  subjected  to  foi 
eign  rule  —  never  again  feel  the  rod  of  oppression  ! ' 

"  Dear  Grandfather,"  asked  little  Alice,  "did  Gen- 
eral Washington  bring  our  chair  back  to  Boston  ?  " 

"  I  know  not  how  long  the  chair  remained  at 
Cambridge,"  said  Grandfather.  "  Had  it  staid  there 
till  this  time,  it  could  not  have  found  a  better  or 
more  appropriate  shelter.  The  mansion  which  Gen- 
eral Washington  occupied  is  still  standing,  and 
his  apartments  have  since  been  tenanted  by  several 
eminent  men.  Governor  Everett,  while  a  professor 
in  the  university,  resided  there.  So  at  an  after  period 
did  Mr.  Sparks,  whose  invaluable  labors  have  connect 
ed  his  name  with  the  immortality  of  Washington. 
And  at  this  very  time  a  venerable  friend  and  contem- 
porary of  your  Grandfather,  after  long  pilgrimages 
beyond  the  sea,  has  set  up  his  staff  of  rest  at  Wash- 
ington's head  quarters." 

"  You  mean  Professor  Longfellow,  Grandfather," 
said  Laurence.  "  0,  how  I  should  love  to  see  the 
author  of  those  beautiful  Voices  of  the  Night  ! " 

"  We  will  visit  him  next  summer,"  answered 
Grandfather,  "  and  take  Clara  and  little  Alice  with 
m  —  and  Charley,  too,  if  he  will  be  quiet." 


CHAPTER  X. 

When  Grandfather  resumed  his  narrative  the  next 
evening,  he  told  the  children  that  he  had  some  diffi- 
culty in  tracing  the  movements  of  the  chair  daring 
a  short  period  after  General  Washington's  departure 
from  Cambridge. 

Within  a  few  months,  however,  it  made  its  appear- 
ance at  a  shop  in  Boston,  before  the  door  of  which 
was  seen  a  striped  pole.  In  the  interior  was  dis- 
played a  stuffed  alligator,  a  rattlesnake's  skin,  a  bun- 
dle of  Indian  arrows,  an  old-fashioned  matchlock 
gun,  a  walking  stick  of  Governor  Winthrop's,  a  wig 
of  old  Cotton  Mather's,  and  a  colored  print  of  the 
Boston  massacre.  In  short,  it  was  a  barber's  shop, 
Kept  by  a  Mr.  Pierce,  who  prided  himself  on  having 
shaved  General  Washington,  Old  Put,  and  many 
other  famous  persons. 

"  This  was  not  a  very  dignified  situation  for  our 
venerable  chair,"  continued  Grandfather  ;  "  but,  you 
know,  there  is  no  better  place  for  news  than  a  bar- 
ber's shop.     All  the  events  nf  the  revolutionary  wai 

16  (241} 


242  grandfather's  chair. 

were  heard  of  there  sooner  than  any  where  else 
People  used  to  sit  in  the  chair,  reading  the  news- 
paper or  talking,  and  waiting  to  be  shaved,  while 
Mr.  Pierce,  with  his  scissors  and  razor,  was  at  work 
apon  the  heads    or  chins  of   his  other  customers." 

"  I  am  sorry  the  chair  could  not  betake  itself  to 
some  more  suitable  place  of  refuge,"  said  Laurence. 
"  It  was  old  now,  and  must  have  longed  for  quiet. 
Besides,  after  it  had  held  Washington  in  its  arms,  it 
ought  not  to  have  been  compelled  to  receive  all  the 
world.  It  should  have  been  put  into  the  pulpit  of 
the  Old  South  Church,  or  some  other  consecrated 
place." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  answered  Grandfather.  "  But  the 
chair,  in  the  course  of  its  varied  existence,  had  grown 
so  accustomed  to  general  intercourse  with  society 
that  I  doubt  whether  it  would  have  contented  itself 
in  the  pulpit  of  the  Old  South.  There  it  would 
have  stood  solitary,  or  with  no  livelier  companion 
than  the  silent  organ,  in  the  opposite  gallery,  six  days 
out  of  seven.  I  incline  to  think  that  it  had  seldom 
been  situated  more  to  its  mind  than  on  the  sanded 
floor  of  the  snug  little  barber's  shop." 

Then  Grandfather  amused  his  children  and  himself 
with  fancying  all  the  different  sorts  of  people  who 
had  occupied  our  chair  while  they  awaited  the  lei- 
sure of  the  barber. 

There  was  the  old  clergyman,  such  as  Dr.  Cliaun- 


GRANDFATHER  3    CHAIR.  243 

zey,  "wearing  a  white  wig,  which  the  barber  took  from 
his  head  and  placed  upon  a  wig  block.  Half  an 
hour,  perhaps,  was.  spent  in  combing  and  powdering 
this  reverend  appendage  to  a  clerical  skull.  There, 
too,  were  officers  of  the  continental  army,  who  re- 
quired their  hair  to  be  pomatumed  and  plastered,  so 
as  to  give  them  a  bold  and  martial  aspect.  There, 
once  in  a  while,  was  seen  the  thin,  careworn,  melan- 
choly visage  of  an  old  tory,  with  a  wig  that,  in  times 
long  past,  had  perhaps  figured  at  a  Province  House 
ball.  And  there,  not  unfrequently,  sat  the  rough 
captain  cf  a  privateer,  just  returned  from  a  successful 
cruise,  in  which  he  had  captured  half  a  dozen  richly- 
laden  vessels  belonging  to  King  George's  subjects. 
And  sometimes  a  rosy  little  schoolboy  climbed  into 
our  chair,  and  sat  staring,  with  wide-open  eyes,  at 
the  alligator,  the  rattlesnake,  and  the  other  curiosi- 
ties of  the  barber's  shop.  His  mother  had  sent  him, 
with  sixpence  in  his  hand,  to  get  his  glossy  curls 
cropped  off.  The  incidents  of  the  revolution  plen- 
tifully supplied  the  barber's  customers  with  topics  of 
conversation.  They  talked  sorrowfully  of  the  death 
of  General  Montgomery  and  the  failure  of  our  troops 
.o  take  Quebec ;  for  the  Xew  Englanders  were  now 
as  anxious  to  get  Canada  from  the  English  as  they 
had  formerly  been  to  conquer  it  from  the  French. 
"  But  very  soon,"  said  Grandfather,  "  came  news 
from  Philadelphia,  the  most  important  that  America 


844  grandfather's  chair. 

had  ever  heard  of.  On  the  4th  of  July,  1776,  Con 
gress  had  signed  the  Declaration  of  Independence 
The  thirteen  colonies  were  now  free  and  independent 
states.  Dark  as  our  prospects  were,  the  inhabitants 
welcomed  these  glorious  tidings,  and  resolved  to  per- 
ish rather  than  again  bear  the  yoke  of  England." 

"And  I  would  perish,  too  !  "  cried  Charley. 

"It  was  a  great  day  —  a  glorious  deed!"  said 
Laurence,  coloring  high  with  enthusiasm.  "  And, 
Grandfather,  I  love  to  think  that  the  sages  in  Con- 
gress showed  themselves  as  bold  and  true  as  the  sol- 
diers in  the  field  ;  for  it  must  have  required  more 
courage  to  sign  the  Declaration  of  Independence 
than  to  fight  the  enemy  in  battle." 

Grandfather  acquiesced  in  Laurence's  view  of  the 
matter.  He  then  touched  briefly  and  hastily  upon 
the  prominent  events  of  the  revolution.  The  thun- 
der storm  of  war  had  now  rolled  southward,  and  did 
not  again  burst  upon  Massachusetts,  where  its  first 
fury  had  been  felt.  But  she  contributed  her  full 
share  to  the  success  of  the  contest.  Wherever  a 
battle  was  fought,  —  whether  at  Long  Island,  White 
Plains,  Trenton,  Princeton,  Brandywine,  or  German- 
town,  —  some  of  her  brave  sons  were  found  slain 
upon  the  field. 

In  October,  1777,  General  Burgoyne  surrendered 
his  army,  at  Saratoga,  to  the  American  general. 
Gates.     The  captured  troops  were  sent  to  Massach" 


GRANT^ATHETt's    CHAIR  245 

setts  Not  long  afterwards  Doctor  Franklin  and 
ether  American  commissioners  made  a  treaty  at  Paris, 
by  which  France  bound  herself  to  assist  our  country- 
men. The  gallant  Lafayette  was  already  fighting  for 
our  freedom  by  the  side  of  "Washington.  In  1778 
a  French  fleet,  commanded  by  Count  d'Estaing, 
spent  a  considerable  time  in  Boston  Harbor.  It 
marks  the  vicissitudes  of  human  affairs,  that  the 
French,  our  ancient  enemies,  should  come  hither  as 
comrades  and  brethren,  and  that  kindred  England 
should  be  our  foe. 

"  While  the  war  was  raging  in  the  Middle  and 
Southern  States,"  proceeded  Grandfather,  "Massa- 
chusetts had  leisure  to  settle  a  new  constitution  of 
government  instead  of  the  royal  charter.  This  was 
done  in  1780.  In  the  same  year  John  Hancock, 
who  had  been  president  of  Congress,  was  chosen 
governor  of  the  state.  He  was  the  first  whom  the 
people  had  elected  since  the  days  of  old  Simon 
Bradstreet." 

"  But,  Grandfather,  who  had  been  governor  since 
the  British  were  driven  away  ?  "  inquired  Laurence. 
"  General  Gage  and  Sir  William  Howe  were  the  last 
whom  you  have  told  us  of." 

"There  had  been  no  governor  for  the  last  four 
years,"  replied  Grandfather.  "  Massachusetts  had 
been  ruled  by  the  legislature,  to  whom  the  people 
paid  obedience  of  their  own  accord.     It  is   one  of 


246  grandfather's  chair. 

the  most  remarkable  circumstances  in  our  history, 
that,  when  the  charter  government  was  overthrown 
by  the  war,  no  anarchy  nor  the  slightest  confusion 
ensued.  This  was  a  great  honor  to  the  people.  But 
now  Hancock  was  proclaimed  governor  by  sound  of 
trumpet ;  and  there  was  again  a  settled  government." 

Grandfather  again  adverted  to  the  progress  of  the 
war.  In  1781  General  Greene  drove  the  British 
from  the  Southern  States.  In  October  of  the  same 
year  General  Washington  compelled  Lord  Cornwal- 
lis  to  surrender  his  army,  at  Yorktown,  in  Virginia. 
This  was  the  last  great  event  of  the  revolutionary 
contest.  King  George  and  his  ministers  perceived 
that  all  the  might  of  England  could  not  compel 
America  to  renew  her  allegiance  to  the  crown.  Af- 
ter a  great  deal  of  discussion,  a  treaty  of  peace  was 
signed  in  September,   1783. 

"  Now,  at  last,"  said  Grandfather,  "  after  weary 
years  of  war,  the  regiments  of  Massachusetts  returned 
in  peace  to  their  families.  Now  the  stately  and  dig- 
nified leaders,  such  as  General  Lincoln  and  General 
Knox,  with  their  powdered  hair  and  their  uniforms 
of  blue  and  buff,  were  seen  moving  about  the 
streets." 

"  And  little  boys  ran  after  them,  I  suppose," 
remarked  Charley ;  "  and  the  grown  people  bowed 
respectfully." 

"  They  deserved  respect  •  for  they  were  good  men 


GRANDFATHER  S    CHAIR.  2il 

(is  well  as  brave,"  answered  Grandfather.  "  Now, 
too,  the  inferior  officers  and  privates  came  home  to 
seek  some  peaceful  occupation.  Their  friends  re- 
membered them  as  slender  and  smooth  cheeked  young 
men ;  but  they  returned  with  the  erect  and  rigid 
mien  of  disciplined  soldiers.  Some  hobbled  on 
crutches  and  wooden  legs ;  others  had  received 
wounds,  which  were  still  rankling  in  their  breasts. 
Many,  alas  !  had  fallen  in  battle,  and  perhaps  were 
left  unburied  on  the  bloody  field." 

"  The  country  must  have  been  sick  of  war,"  ob- 
served Laurence. 

"  One  would  have  thought  so,"  said  Grandfather. 
"  Yet  only  two  or  three  years  elapsed  before  the 
folly  of  some  misguided  men  caused  another  muster- 
ing of  soldiers.  This  affair  was  called  Shays's  war, 
because  a  Captain  Shays  was  the  chief  leader  of  the 
insurgents." 

'•'  0  Grandfather,  don't  let  there  be  another  war  !  " 
cried  little  x\lice,  piteously. 

Grandfather  comforted  his  dear  little  girl  by  assur- 
ing her  that  there  was  no  great  mischief  done. 
Shays's  Avar  happened  in  the  latter  part  of  1786  and 
the  beginning  of  the  following  year.  Its  principal 
cause  was  the  badness  of  the  times.  The  State  of 
Massachusetts,  in  its  public  capacity,  was  very  much 
in  debt.  So  likewise  were  many  of  the  people. 
An   insurrection  took   place,  the   object   of   which 


248  grandfather's  chair. 

■« 

seems  to  have  been,  to  interrupt  the  course  of  law 
and  get  rid  of  debts  and  taxes. 

James  Bowdoin,  a  good  and  able  man,  was  now 
governor  of  Massachusetts.  He  sent  General  Lin- 
coln, at  the  head  of  four  thousand  men,  to  put  down 
the  insurrection.  This  general,  who  had  fought 
through  several  hard  campaigns  in  the  revolution, 
managed  matters  like  an  old  soldier,  and  totally  de- 
feated the  rebels  at  the  expense  of  very  little  blood. 

"  There  is  but  one  more  public  event  to  be  re- 
corded iu  the  history  of  our  chair,"  proceeded 
Grandfather.  "In  the  year  1794  Samuel  Adams 
was  elected  governor  of  Massachusetts.  I  have  told 
you  what  a  disting Lushed  patriot  he  was,  and  how 
much  he  resembled  the  stern  old  Puritans.  Could 
the  ancient  freemen  of  Massachusetts  who  lived  in 
the  days  of  the  first  charter  have  arisen  from  their 
graves,  they  would  probably  have  voted  for  Samuel 
Adams  to  be  governor." 

"Well,  Grandfather,  I  hope  he  sat  in  our  chair/' 
said  Clara. 

"  He  did,"  replied  Grandfather.  "  He  had  long 
been  in  the  habit  of  visiting  the  barber's  shop,  where 
our  venerable  chair,  philosophically  forgetful  of  its 
former  dignities,  had  now  spent  nearly  eighteen  not 
uncomfortable  years.  Such  a  remarkable  piece  of 
furniture,  so  evidently  a  relic  of  long-departed  times, 
could  not  escape  the  notice  of  Samuel  Adams.     He 


GRANDFATHERS    CHAIR.  249 

made  minute  researches  into  its  history,  and  ascer- 
tained what  a  succession  of  excellent  and  famous 
people  had  occupied  it." 

"  How  did  he  find  it  out  ? "  asked  Charley ;  "  for 
I  suppose  the  chair  could  not  tell  its  own  history." 

"  There  used  to  be  a  vast  collection  of  ancient  let- 
ters and  other  documents  in  the  tower  of  the  Old 
South  Church,"  answered  Grandfather.  "  Perhaps 
the  history  of  our  chair  was  contained  among  these. 
At  all  events,  Samuel  Adams  appears  to  have  been 
well  acquainted  with  it.  When  he  became  govern- 
or, he  felt  that  he  could  have  no  more  honorable 
seat  than  that  which  had  been  the  ancient  chair  of 
state.  He  therefore  purchased  it  for  a  trifle,  and 
filled  it  worthily  for  three  years  as  governor  of 
Massachusetts." 

"  And  what  next  ?  "  asked  Charley. 

"  That  is  all,"  said  Grandfather,  heaving  a  sigh 
for  he  could  not  help  being  a  little  sad  at  the 
thought  that  his  stories  must  close  here.  "  Samuel 
Adams  died  in  1803,  at  the  age  of  above  threescore 
and  ten.  He  was  a  great  patriot,  but  a  poor  man 
At  his  d';Kth  he  left  scarcely  property  enough  to  paj 
the  expenses  of  his  funeral.  This  precious  chair 
among  his  other  effects,  was  sold  at  auction  ;  and 
your  Grandfather,  who  was  then  in  the  strength  of 
tiis  years,  became  the  purchaser." 

Laurence,    with    a    mind    full    of    thoughts    that 


250  grandfather's  chair. 

struggled  for  expression  but  could  find  none,  looked 
steadfastly  at  the  chair. 

He  had  now  learned  all  its  history,  yet  was  not 
satisfied. 

"  O,  how  I  wish  that  the  chair  could  speak  !  " 
cried  he.  "  After  its  long  intercourse  with  mankind, 
—  after  looking  upon  the  world  for  ages,  —  what  les- 
sons of  golden  wisdom  it  might  utter !  It  might 
teach  a  private  person  how  to  lead  a  good  and  happy 
life,  or  a  statesman  how  to  make  his  country  pros- 
perous." 


CHAPTER   XI. 

Grandfather  was  struck  by  Laurence's  idea  that 
the  historic  chair  should  utter  a  voice,  and  thus  pour 
forth  the  collected  wisdom  of  two  centuries.  The 
old  gentleman  had  once  possessed  no  inconsiderable 
share  of  fancy  ;  and  even  now  its  fading  sunshine 
occasionally  glimmered  among  his  more  sombre 
reflections. 

As  the  history  of  his  chair  had  exhausted  all  his 
facts,  Grandfather  determined  to  have  recourse  to 
fable.  So,  after  warning  the  children  that  they 
must  not  mistake  this  story  for  a  true  one,  he  related 
what  we  shall  call 

GRANDFATHER'S  DREAM. 

Laurence  and  Clara,  where  were  you  last  night  ? 
Where  were  you,  Charley,  and  dear  little  Alice  ? 
You  had  all  gone  to  rest,  and  left  old  Grandfather 
to  meditate  alone  in  his  great  chair.  The  lamp  had 
grown  so  dim  that  its  light  hardly  illuminated  the 

(351) 


252  grandfather's  chair. 

alabaster  shade.  The  wood  fire  had  crumbled  into 
heavy  embers,  among  which  the  little  flames  danced, 
and  quivered,  and  sported  about  like  fairies. 

And  here  sat  Grandfather  all  by  himself.  He 
knew  that  it  was  bedtime  ;  yet  he  could  not  help 
longing  to  hear  your  merry  voices,  or  to  hold  a  com- 
fortable chat  with  some  old  friend ;  because  then  his 
pillow  would  be  visited  by  pleasant  dreams.  But,  as 
neither  children  nor  friends  were  at  hand,  Grandfather 
leaned  back  in  the  great  chair  and  closed  his  eyes, 
for  the  sake  of  meditating  more  profoundly. 

And,  when  Grandfather's  meditations  had  grown 
very  profound  indeed,  he  fancied  that  he  heard  a 
sound  over  his  head,  as  if  somebody  were  preparing 
to  speak. 

"  Hem  !  "  it  said,  in  a  dry,  husky  tone.  "  H-e-m  ! 
Hem!" 

As  Grandfather  did  not  know  that  any  person  was 
in  the  room  he  started  up  in  great  surprise,  and 
peeped  hither  and  thither,  behind  the  chair,  and  into 
the  recess  by  the  fireside,  and  at  the  dark  nook  yon- 
der near  the  bookcase.      Nobody  could  he  see. 

"  Poh  !  "  said  Grandfather  to  himself,  "  I  must 
have  been  dreaming." 

But,  just  as  he  was  going  to  resume  his  seat, 
Grandfather  happened  to  look  at  the  great  chair. 
The  rays  of  firelight  were  flickering  upon  it  in  such 
a  manner  that  it  really  seemed  as  if  its  oaken  frame 


grandfather's  chair.  253 

were  all  alive.  "What !  did  it  not  move  its  elbow  ? 
There,  too  !  It  certainly  lifted  one  of  its  ponderous 
fore  legs,  as  if  it  had  a  notion  of  drawing  itself  a  lit- 
tle nearer  to  the  fire.  Meanwhile  the  lion's  head 
nodded  at  Grandfather  with  as  polite  and  sociable  a 
look  as  a  lion's  visage,  carved  in  oak,  could  possibly 
be  expected  to  assume.     Well,  this  is  strange ! 

"  Good  evening,  my  old  friend,"  said  the  dry  and 
husky  voice,  now  a  little  clearer  than  before.  "  We 
have  been  intimately  acquainted  so  long  that  I  think 
it  high  time  we  have  a  chat  together." 

Grandfather  was  looking  straight  at  the  lion's  head, 
and  could  not  be  mistaken  in  supposing  that  it  moved 
its  lip5;.      So  here  the  mystery  was  all  explained. 

"  I  was  not  aware,"  said  Grandfather,  with  a  civil 
salutation  to  his  oaken  companion,  "that  you  pos- 
sessed the  faculty  of  speech.  Otherwise  I  should 
often  have  been  glad  to  converse  with  such  a  solid, 
useful,  and  substantial  if  not  brilliant  member  of 
society." 

"  0 !  "  replied  the  ancient  chair,  in  a  quiet  and 
easy  tone ;  for  it  had  now  cleared  its  throat  of  the 
dust  of  ages.  "  I  am  naturally  a  silent  and  in- 
communicative sort  of  character.  One  or  twice  in 
the  course  of  a  century  I  unclose  my  lips.  When 
the  gentle  Lady  Arbella  departed  this  life  I  uttered 
a  groan.  When  the  honest  mintmaster  weighed  his 
plump    daughter    against    the    pine-tree    shillings    ] 


254  GRANDFATHER  S    CHAIR. 

chuckled  audibly  at  the  joke.  When  old  Simon 
Bradstreet  took  the  place  of  the  tyrant  Andros  1 
joined  in  the  general  huzza,  and  capered  on  my 
wooden  legs  for  joy.  To  be  sure,  the  bystanders 
were  so  fully  occupied  with  their  own  feelings  that 
my   sympathy  was  quite  unnoticed." 

"  And  have  you  often  held  a  private  chat  with 
your  friends  ?  "  asked  Grandfather. 

"Not  often,"  answered  the  chair.  t(\  once 
talked  with  Sir  William  Phipps,  and  communicated 
my  ideas  about  the  witchcraft  delusion.  Cotton 
Mather  had  several  conversations  with  me,  and 
derived  great  benefit  from  my  historical  reminis- 
cences. In  the  days  of  the  stamp  act  I  whispered 
in  the  ear  of  Hutchinson,  bidding  him  to  remember 
what  stock  his  countrymen  were  descended  of,  and 
to  think  whether  the  spirit  of  their  forefathers  had 
utterly  departed  from  them.  The  last  man  v  horn  I 
favored  with  a  colloquy  was  that  stout  old  repub- 
lican, Samuel  Adams." 

"  And  how  happens  it,"  inquired  Grandfather, 
"  that  there  is  no  record  nor  tradition  of  your  con- 
versational abilities  ?  It  is  an  uncommon  thing  to 
meet  with  a  chair  that  can  talk." 

"  Why,  to  tell  you  the  truth,"  said  the  chair, 
giving  itself  a  hitch  nearer  to  the  hearth,  "  I  am  not 
apt  to  choose  the  most  suitable  moments  for  unclos- 
ing   my    lips.       Sometimes    I    have    inconsiderately 


GRANDFATHER  S    CHAIR.  255 

begun  to  speak,  when  my  occupant,  lolling  back  in 
my  arms,  was  inclined  to  take  an  after-dinner  nap. 
Or  perhaps  the  impulse  to  talk  may  be  felt  at  mid- 
night, when  the  lamp  burns  dim  and  the  fire  crum- 
bles into  decay,  and  the  studious  or  thoughtful  man 
finds  that  his  brain  is  in  a  mist.  Oftenest  I  have 
unwisely  uttered  my  wisdom  in  the  ears  of  sick  per- 
sons, when  the  inquietude  of  fever  made  them  toss 
about  upon  my  cushion.  And  so  it  happens,  that 
though  my  words  make  a  pretty  strong  impression  at 
the  moment,  yet  my  auditors  invariably  remember 
them  only  as  a  dream.  I  should  not  wonder  if  you, 
my  excellent  friend,  were  to  do  the  same  to-morrow 
morning." 

"  Nor  I  either,"  thought  Grandfather  to  himself. 

However,  he  thanked  this  respectable  old  chair  for 
beginning  the  conversation,  and  begged  to  know 
whether  it  had  any  thing  particular  to  communi- 
cate. 

"  I  have  been  listening  attentively  to  your  narra- 
tive of  my  adventures,"  replied  the  chair  ;  "  and  it 
must  be  owned  that  your  correctness  entitles  you  to 
be  held  up  as  a  pattern  to  biographers.  Neverthe- 
less, there  are  a  few  omissions  which  I  should  be 
glad  to  see  supplied.  For  instance,  you  make  no 
mention  of  the  good  knight  Sir  Richard  Saltonstall, 
nor  of  the  famous  Hugh  Peters,  nor  of  those  old 
regicide  judges,  "Whalley,  Goffe,  and  Dixwell.     Yet 


256  grandfather's  chair. 

I  have  borne  the  weight  of  all  those  distinguished 
characters  at  one  time  or  another." 

Grandfather  promised  amendment  if  ever  he 
should  have  an  opportunity  to  repeat  his  narrative. 
The  good  old  chair,  which  still  seemed  to  retain  a 
due  regard  for  outward  appearance,  then  reminded 
him  how  long  a  time  had  passed  since  it  had  been 
provided  with  a  new  cushion.  It  likewise  expressed 
the  opinion  that  the  oaken  figures  on  its  back  would 
show  to  much  better  advantage  by  the  aid  of  a  little 
varnish. 

"  And  I  have  had  a  complaint  in  this  joint,"  con- 
tinued the  chair,  endeavoring  to  lift  one  of  its  legs, 
"  ever  since  Charley  trundled  his  wheelbarrow  against 
me." 

"  It  shall  be  attended  to,"  said  Grandfather. 
"  And  now,  venerable  chair,  I  have  a  favor  to  solicit. 
During  an  existence  of  more  than  two  centuries  you 
have  had  a  familiar  intercourse  with  men  who  were 
esteemed  the  wisest  of  their  day.  Doubtless,  with 
your  capacious  understanding,  you  have  treasured  up 
many  an  invaluable  lesson  of  wisdom.  You  certainly 
have  had  time  enough  to  guess  the  riddle  of  life. 
Tell  us  poor  mortals,  then,  how  we  may  be  happy." 

The  lion's  head  fixed  its  eyes  thoughtfully  upon 
the  fire,  and  the  whole  chair  assumed  an  aspect  of 
deep  meditation.  Finally  it  beckoned  to  Grand- 
father with    its   elbow,   and   made    a   step   sideways 


GRANDFATHFR  8    CHAIR  257 

towards  him,  as  if  it  had  a  very  important  secret  to 
communicate. 

"  As  long  as  I  have  stood  in  the  midst  of  human 
affairs, "  said  the  chair,  with  a  very  oracular  enuncia- 
tion, "  I  have  constantly  observed  that  Justice, 
'J 'ruth,  and  Love  are  the  chief  ingredients  of  every 
happy  life." 

"  Justice,  Truth,  and  Love  !  "  exclaimed  Grand- 
father. "  We  need  not  exist  two  centuries  to  find 
out  that  these  qualities  are  essential  to  our  happiness. 
This  is  no  secret.  Every  human  being  is  born  with 
the  instinctive  knowledge  of  it." 

"  Ah  !  "  cried  the  chair,  drawing  back  in  surprise. 
"  From  what  I  have  observed  of  the  dealings  of  man 
with  man,  and  nation  with  nation,  I  never  should 
have  suspected  that  they  knew  this  all-important 
secret.  And,  with  this  eternal  lesson  written  in 
your  soul,  do  you  ask  me  to  sift  new  wisdom  for 
you  out  of  my  petty  existence  of  two  or  three  cen- 
turies ?  " 

"  But,  my  dear  chair "  said  Grandfather. 

"  Not  a  word  more,"  interrupted  the  chair  ;  "  here 
1  close  my  lips  for  the  next  hundred  years.  At  the 
end  of  that  period,  if  I  shall  have  discovered  any  new 
precepts  of  happiness  better  than  what  Heaven  has 
already  taught  you,  they  shall  assuredly  be  given  to 
{he  world." 

In  the  energy  of  its  utterance  the  oaken  chair 
17 


258  GRANDFATHER  S    CHAIR. 

seemed  to  stamp  its  foot,  and  trod  (we  hope  uninten 
tionally)  upon  Grandfather's  toe.     The  old  gentlemar 
started,  and  found  that  he  had  been  asleep  in  the 
great  chair,  and  that  his   heavy  walking   stick  had 
fallen  down  across  his  foot. 

"  Grandfather,"  cried  little  Alice,  clapping  her 
hands,  "  you  must  dream  a  new  dream  every  night 
about  our  chair  !  " 

Laurence,  and  Clara,  and  Charley  said  the  same. 
But  the  good  old  gentleman  shook  his  head,  and  de- 
clared that  here  ended  the  history,  real  or  fabulous, 
of  Grandfather's  Chair. 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 


BENJAMIN   WEST. 
SIR   ISAAC   NEWTON. 
SAMUEL   JOHNSON. 


OLIVER   CROMWELL. 
BENJA  M I N  FRANK  LIN. 
QUEEN   CHRISTINA. 


This  small  volume  and  others  of  a  similar  character,  from 
the  same  hand,  have  not  been  composed  without  a  deep 
sense  of  responsibility.  The  author  regards  children  as 
sacred,  and  would  not,  for  the  world,  cast  any  thing  into  the 
fountain  of  a  young  heart  that  might  imbitter  and  pollute 
its  waters.  And,  even  in  point  of  the  reputation  to  be  aimed 
at,  juvenile  literature  is  as  well  worth  cultivating  as  any 
other.  The  writer,  if  he  succeed  in  pleasing  his  little 
readers,  may  hope  to  be  remembered  by  them  till  their  own 
old  age  —  a  far  longer  period  of  literary  existence  than  is 
generally  attained  by  those  who  seek  immortality  from  the 
judgments  of  full-grown  men. 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 


CHAPTER    I. 


When  Edward  Temple  was  about  eight  or  nine 
years  old  he  was  afflicted  with  a  disorder  of  the  eyes. 
It  was  so  severe,  and  his  sight  was  naturally  so  deli- 
cate, that  the  surgeon  felt  some  apprehensions  lest 
the  boy  should  become  totally  blind.  He  therefore 
gave  strict  directions  to  keep  him  in  a  darkened 
chamber,  with  a  bandage  over  his  eyes.  Not  a  ray 
of  the  blessed  light  of  heaven  could  be  suffered  to 
visit  the  poor  lad. 

This  was  a  sad  thing  for  Edward.  It  was  just  the 
same  as  if  there  were  to  be  no  more  sunshine,  nor 
moonlight,  nor  glow  of  the  cheerful  fire,  nor  light 
of  lamps.  A  night  had  begun  which  was  to  con- 
tinue perhaps  for  months  —  a  longer  and  drearier 
night  than  that  which  voyagers  are  compelled  to 
endure  when  their  ship  is  icebound,  throughout  the 


6  BIOOKArHICAL    STOIUE8. 

"winter,  in  the  Arctic  Ocean.  His  dear  father  and 
mother,  his  brother  George,  and  the  sweet  face  of 
little  Emily  Robinson  must  all  vanish  and  leave 
him  in  utter  darkness  and  solitude.  Their  voices 
and  footsteps,  it  is  true,  would  be  heard  around  him ; 
he  would  feel  his  mother's  embrace  and  the  kind 
pressure  of  all  their  hands ;  but  still  it  would  seem 
as  if  they  were  a  thousand  miles  away. 

And  then  his  studies,  —  they  were  to  be  entirely 
given  up.  This  was  another  grievous  trial ;  for  Ed- 
ward's memory  hardly  went  back  to  the  period  when 
he  had  not  known  how  to  read.  Many  and  many  a 
holiday  had  he  spent  at  his  book,  poring  over  its 
pages  until  the  deepening  twilight  confused  the  print 
and  made  all  the  letters  run  into  long  words.  Then 
would  he  press  his  hands  across  his  eyes  and  wonder 
why  they  pained  him  so  ;  and  when  the  candles  were 
lighted,  what  was  the  reason  that  they  burned  so 
dimly,  like  the  moon  in  a  foggy  night  ?  Poor 
little  fellow  !  So  far  as  his  eyes  were  concerned  he 
was  already  an  old  man,  and  needed  a  pair  of  specta- 
cles almost  as  much  as  his  own  grandfather  did. 

And  now,  alas !  the  time  was  come  when  even 
grandfather's  spectacles  could  not  have  assisted  Ed- 
ward to  read.  After  a  few  bitter  tears,  which  only 
pained  his  eyes  the  more,  the  poor  boy  submitted  to 
the  surgeon's  orders.  His  eyes  were  bandaged,  and, 
frith   his   mother  on   one   side   and  his   little  friend 


BIOGRAFHICAL    STORIES.  / 

Emily  on  the  other,  he  was  led  into  a  darkened 
chamber. 

"  Mother,  I  shall  be  very  miserable  ! "  said  Ed- 
ward, sobbing. 

"  O,  no,  my  dear  child ! "  replied  his  mother,  cheer- 
fully. "  Your  eyesight  was  a  precious  gift  of  Heaven, 
it  is  true ;  but  you  would  do  wrong  to  be  miserable 
for  its  loss,  even  if  there  were  no  hope  of  regaining 
it.  There  are  other  enjoyments  besides  what  come 
to  us  through  our  eyes." 

"  None  that  are  worth  having,"  said  Edward. 

"  Ah,  but  you  will  not  think  so  long,"  rejoined 
Mrs.  Temple,  with  tenderness.  "All  of  us — your 
father,  and  myself,  and  George,  and  our  sweet  Emily 
—  will  try  to  find  occupation  and  amusement  for 
fou.  We  will  use  all  our  eyes  to  make  you  happy. 
Will  they  not  be  better  than  a  single  pair  ? " 

"  1  will  sit  by  you  all  day  long,"  said  Emily,  in  her 
low,  sweet  voice,  putting  her  hand  into  that  of  Edward. 

"  And  so  will  I,  Ned,"  said  George,  his  elder 
brother,  "  school  time  and  all,  if  my  father  will 
permit  me." 

Edward's  brother  George  was  three  or  four  years 
older  than  himself  —  a  fine,  hardy  lad,  of  a  bold  and 
ardent  temper.  He  was  the  leader  of  his  comrades  in 
all  their  enterprises  and  amusements.  As  to  his  profi- 
ciency  at  study  there  was  not  much  to  be  said.  He 
had  sense  and  ability  enough  to  have  made  himself  a 


8  BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 

scholar,  but  found  so  many  pleasanter  things  to  do 
that  he  seldom  took  hold  of  a  book  with  his  whole 
heart.  So  fond  was  George  of  boisterous  sports  and 
exercises  that  it  was  really  a  great  token  of  affection 
and  sympathy  when  he  offered  to  sit  all  day  long  in 
a  dark  chamber  with  his  poor  brother  Edward. 

As  for  little  Emily  Robinson,  she  was  the  daugh- 
ter of  one  of  Mr.  Temple's  dearest  friends.  Ever 
since  her  mother  went  to  heaven  (which  was  soon 
after  Emily's  birth)  the  little  girl  had  dwelt  in  the 
household  where  we  now  find  her.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Temple  seemed  to  love  her  as  well  as  their  own  chil- 
dren ;  for  they  had  no  daughter  except  Emily  ;  nor 
would  the  boys  have  known  the  blessing  of  a  sister 
had  not  this  gentle  stranger  come  to  teach  them,  what 
it  was.  If  I  could  show  you  Emily's  face,  with  her 
dark  hair  smoothed  away  from  her  forehead,  you 
would  be  pleased  with  her  look  of  simplicity  and 
loving  kindness,  but  might  think  that  she  was  some- 
what too  grave  for  a  child  of  seven  years  old.  But 
you  would  not  love  her  the  less  for  that. 

So  brother  George  and  this  loving  little  girl  were 
to  be  Edward's  companions  and  playmates  while  he 
should  be  kept  prisoner  in  the  dark  chamber.  When 
the  first  bitterness  of  his  grief  was  over  he  began  to 
feel  that  there  might  be  some  comforts  and  enjoy 
ments  in  life  even  for  a  boy  whose  eyes  were  cov- 
ered with  a  bandage. 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORLES.  J 

"1  thank  you,  dear  mother,"  said  he,  with  only  a 
few  sobs ;  "  and  you,  Emily ;  and  you  too,  George. 
You  will  all  be  very  kind  to  me,  I  know.  And  my 
father,  —  will  not  he  come  and  see  me  every  day  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  dear  boy,"  said  Mr.  Temple ;  for, 
though  invisible  to  Edward,  he  was  standing  close 
beside  him.  "  I  will  spend  some  hours  of  every  day 
with  you.  And  as  I  have  often  amused  you  by 
relating  stories  and  adventures  while  you  had  the 
use  of  your  eyes,  I  can  do  the  same  now  that  you 
are  unable  to  read.     Will  this  please  you,  Edward  ?  " 

"  O,  very  much,"  replied  Edward. 

""Well,  then,"  said  his  father,  "this  evening  we 
will  begin  the  series  of  Biographical  Stories  which  I 
promised  you  some  time  ago." 


CHAPTER    11. 

When  evening  came.  Mr.  Temple  i  /und  Edward 
considerably  revived  in  spirits  and  £  sposed  to  be 
resigned  to  his  misfortune.  Indeed,  tl  e  figure  of  the 
boy,  as  it  was  dimly  seen  by  the  fin.  light,  reclining 
in  a  well-stuffed  easy  chair,  looked  so  very  comforta- 
ble that  many  people  might  have  envied  him.  When 
a  man's  eyes  have  grown  old  with  gazing  at  the  ways 
of  the  world,  it  does  not  seem  such  a  terrible  misfor- 
tune to  have  them  bandaged. 

Little  Emily  Robinson  sat  by  Edward's  side  with 
the  air  of  an  accomplished  nurse.  As  well  as  the 
duskiness  of  the  chamber  would  permit  she  watched 
all  his  motions  and  each  varying  expression  of  his 
face,  and  tried  to  anticipate  her  patient's  wishes  be- 
fore his  tongue  could  utter  them.  Yet  it  was  notice- 
able that  the  child  manifested  an  indescribable  awe 
and  disquietude  whenever  she  fixed  her  eyes  on  the 
bandage ;  for,  to  her  simple  and  affectionate  heart,  it 
seemed  as  if  her  dear  friend  Edward  was  separated 
from  her  because  she  could  not  see  his  eves.      A 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES.  11 

friend's  eyes  tell  m  many  things  which  could  nevei 
be  spoken  by  the  tongue. 

George,  likewise,  looked  awkward  and  confused, 
as  stout  and  healthy  boys  are  accustomed  to  do  in 
the  society  of  the  sick  or  afflicted.  Never  having  felt 
pain  or  sorrow,  they  are  abashed,  from  not  knowing 
how  to  sympathize  with  the  sufferings  of  others. 

"  "Well,  my  dear  Edward,"  inquired  Mrs.  Temple, 
"  is  your  chair  quite  comfortable  ?  and  has  your  little 
nurse  provided  for  all  your  wants  ?  If  so,  your 
father  is  ready  to  begin  his  stories." 

"  O,  I  am  very  well  now,"  answered  Edward, 
with  a  faint  smile.  "  And  my  ears  have  not  forsaken 
me,  though  my  eyes  are  good  for  nothing.  So  pray, 
dear  father,  begin." 

It  was  Mr.  Temple's  design  to  tell  the  children  a 
series  of  true  stories,  the  incidents  of  which  should 
be  taken  from  the  childhood  and  early  life  of  eminent 
people.  Thus  he  hoped  to  bring  George,  and  Ed- 
ward, and  Emily  into  closer  acquaintance  with  the 
famous  persons  who  have  lived  in  other  times  by 
showing  that  they  also  had  been  children  once.  Al- 
though Mr.  Temple  was  scrupulous  to  relate  nothing 
but  what  was  founded  on  fact,  yet  he  felt  himself  at 
liberty  to  clothe  the  incidents  of  his  narrative  in  a 
new  coloring,  so  that  his  auditors  might  understand 
them  the  better. 

"  My  first  story,"  said  he,  "  shall  be  about  a  painte* 
of  pictures. 


L2  BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 

•'  Dear  me  !  "  cried  Edward,  with  a  sigh.  "  1  am 
afraid  I  shall  never  look  at  pictures  any  more." 

"  We  will  hope  for  the  best/'  answered  his  father. 
"  In  the  mean  time,  you  must  try  to  see  things  within 
your  own  mind." 

M  r.  Temple  then  began  the  following  story :  — 

BENJAMIN    WEST. 
Born  1738.    Died  1820. 

In  the  year  1738  there  came  into  the  world,  in  the 
town  of  Springfield,  Pennsylvania,  a  Quaker  infant, 
from  whom  his  parents  and  neighbors  looked  for  won- 
derful things.  A  famous  preacher  of  the  Society  of 
Friends  had  prophesied  about  little  Ben,  and  foretold 
that  he  would  be  one  of  the  most  remarkable  charac- 
ters that  had  appeared  on  the  earth  since  the  days  of 
William  Penn.  On  this  account  the  eyes  of  many 
people  were  fixed  upon  the  boy.  Some  of  his  ances- 
tors had  won  great  renown  in  the  old  wars  of  England 
and  France  ;  but  it  was  probably  expected  that  Ben 
would  become  a  preacher,  and  would  convert  mul- 
titudes to  the  peaceful  doctrines  of  the  Quakers. 
Friend  West  and  his  wife  were  thought  to  be  very 
fortunate  in  having  such  a  son. 

Little  Ben  lived  to  the  ripe  age  of  six  years  with- 
out doing  any  thing  that  was  worthy  to  be  told  in 
history.     But   one  summer  afternoon,  in  his  seventh 


BIOGRAPHICAL    BTOKIES.  13 

year,  his  mother  put  a  fan  into  his  hand  and  bade 
him  keep  the  flies  away  from  the  face  of  a  little  babe 
who  lay  fast  asleep  in  the  cradle.  She  then  left  the 
room. 

The  boy  waved  the  fan  to  and  fro  and  drove  away 
the  buzzing  flies  whenever  they  had  the  impertinence 
to  come  near  the  baby's  face.  When  they  had  all 
flown  out  of  the  window  or  into  distant  parts  of  the 
room,  he  bent  over  the  cradle  and  delighted  himself 
with  gazing  at  the  sleeping  infant.  It  was,  indeed, 
a  very  pretty  sight.  The  little  personage  in  the 
cradle  slumbered  peacefully,  with  its  waxen  hands 
under  its  chin,  looking  as  full  of  blissful  quiet  as  if 
angels  were  singing  lullabies  in  its  ear.  Indeed,  it 
must  have  been  dreaming  about  heaven ;  for,  while 
Ben  stooped  over  the  cradle,  the  little  baby  smiled. 

"  Hoav  beautiful  she  looks  !  "  said  Ben  to  himself. 
"  What  a  pity  it  is  that  such  a  pretty  smile  should 
not  last  forever  !  " 

Now  Ben,  at  this  period  of  his  life,  had  never  heard 
of  that  wonderful  art  by  which  a  look,  that  appears 
and  vanishes  in  a  moment,  may  be  made  to  last  for 
hundreds  of  years.  But,  though  nobody  had  told  him 
of  such  an  art,  he  may  be  said  to  have  invented  it  for 
himself.  On  a  table  near  at  hand  there  were  pens 
wid  paper,  and  ink  of  two  colors,  black  and  red. 
The  boy  seized  a  pen  and  sheet  of  paper,  and,  kneel- 
ing down  beside  the  cradle,  began  to  draw  a  likeness 


14  BlOGllAl'IIICAL    STORIES. 

of  the  infant.  While  he  was  busied  in  this  marine/ 
he  heard  his  mother's  step  approaching,  and  hastily 
tried  to  conceal  the  paper. 

"  Benjamin,  my  son,  what  hast  thou  been  doing  ? ' 
inquired  his  mother,  observing  marks  of  confusion  in 
his  face. 

At  first  Ben  was  unwilling  to  tell ;  for  he  felt  as 
if  there  might  be  something  wrong  in  stealing  the 
baby's  face  and  putting  it  upon  a  sheet  of  paper. 
However,  as  his  mother  insisted,  he  finally  put  the 
sketch  into  her  hand,  and  then  hung  his  head,  ex- 
pecting to  be  well  scolded.  But  when  the  good  lady 
saw  what  was  on  the  paper,  in  lines  of  red  and  black 
ink,  she  uttered  a  scream  of  surprise  and  joy. 

"  Bless  me  !  "  cried  she.  "  It  is  a  picture  of  little 
Sally ! " 

And  then  she  threw  her  arms  round  our  friend 
Benjamin,  and  kissed  him  so  tenderly  that  he  never 
afterwards  was  afraid  to  show  his  performances  to 
his  mother. 

As  Ben  grew  older,  he  was  observed  to  take  vast 
delight  in  looking  at  the  hues  and  forms  of  Nature. 
For  instance,  he  was  greatly  pleased  with  the  blue 
violets  of  spring,  the  wild  roses  of  summer,  and  the 
scarlet  cardinal  flowers  of  early  autumn.  In  the  de- 
cline of  the  year,  when  the  woods  were  variegated 
with  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow,  Ben  seemed  to  de- 
sire nothing  better  than  to  gaze  at  them  from  mom 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES.  15 

till  night.  The  purple  and  golden  clouds  of  sunset 
were  a  joy  to  him.  And  he  was  continually  endeav- 
oring to  draw  the  figures  of  trees,  men,  mountains, 
houses,  cattle,  geese,  ducks,  and  turkeys,  with  a 
piece  of  chalk,  on  barn  doors  or  on  the  floor. 

In  these  old  times  the  Mohawk  Indians  were  still 
numerous  in  Pennsylvania.  Every  year  a  party  of 
them  used  to  pay  a  visit  to  Springfield,  because  the 
wigwams  of  their  ancestors  had  formerly  stood  there. 
These  wild  men  grew  fond  of  little  Ben,  and  made 
him  very  happy  by  giving  him  some  of  the  red 
and  yellow  paint  with  which  they  were  accustomed 
to  adorn  their  faces.  His  mother,  too,  presented  him 
with  a  piece  of  indigo.  Thus  he  now  had  three  col- 
ors,—  red,  blue,  and  yellow,  —  and  could  manufac- 
ture green  by  mixing  the  yellow  with  the  blue.  Our 
friend  Ben  was  overjoyed,  and  doubtless  showed  his 
gratitude  to  the  Indians  by  taking  their  likenesses  in 
the  strange  dresses  which  they  wore,  with  feathers, 
tomahawks,  and  bows  and  arrows. 

But  all  this  time  the  young  artist  had  no  paint 
brushes  ;  nor  were  there  any  to  be  bought,  unless  he 
had  sent  to  Philadelphia  on  purpose.  However,  he 
was  a  very  ingenious-  boy,  and  resolved  to  manufac- 
ture paint  brushes  for  himself.  With  this  design  he 
laid  hold  upon  —  what  do  you  think  ?  Why,  upon  a 
respectable  old  black  cat,  who  was  sleeping  quietly 
by  the  fireside 


16  BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 

"  Puss,"  said  little  Ben  to  the  cat,  "  pray  give  me 
some  of  the  fur  from  the  tip  of  thy  tail  ? " 

Though  he  addressed  the  black  cat  so  civilly,  yet 
Ben  "was  determined  to  have  the  fur,  whether  she 
were  willing  or  not.  Puss,  who  had  no  great  zeal  for 
the  fine  arts,  would  have  resisted  if  she  could ;  but 
the  boy  was  armed  with  his  mother's  scissors,  and 
very  dexterously  clipped  off  fur  enough  to  make  a 
paint  brush.  This  was  of  so  much  use  to  him  that 
he  applied  to  Madame  Puss  again  and  again,  until 
her  warm  coat  of  fur  had  become  so  thin  and  ragged 
that  she  could  hardly  keep  comfortable  through  the 
winter.  Poor  thing !  she  was  forced  to  creep  close 
into  the  chimney  corner,  and  eyed  Ben  with  a  very 
rueful  physiognomy.  But  Ben  considered  it  more 
necessary  that  he  should  have  paint  brushes  than 
that  puss  should  be  warm. 

About  this  period  friend  West  received  a  visit  from 
Mr.  Pennington,  a  merchant  of  Philadelphia,  who 
was  likewise  a  member  of  the  Society  of  Friends.  The 
visitor,  on  entering  the  parlor,  was  surprised  to  see 
it  ornamented  with  drawings  of  Indian  chiefs,  and  of 
birds  with  beautiful  plumage,  and  of  the  wild  flowers 
of  the  forest.  Nothing  of  the  kind  was  ever  seen 
before  in  the  habitation  of  a  Quaker  farmer. 

"Why,  friend  West,"  exclaimed  the  Philadelphia 
merchant,  "  what  has  possessed  thee  to  cover  thy 
Walls  with  all  these  pictures  ?  Where  on  earth  dids/ 
thou  get  them  ?  " 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES.  17 

Then  friend  West  explained  that  all  these  pictures 
were  painted  by  little  Ben,  with  no  better  materials 
than  red  and  yellow  ochre  and  a  piece  of  indigo,  and 
with  brushes  made  of  the  black  cat's  fur. 

"  Verily,"  said  Mr.  Pennington,  "  the  boy  hath  a 
wonderful  faculty.  Some  of  our  friends  might  look 
upon  these  matters  as  vanity ;  but  little  Benjamin 
appears  to  have  been  born  a  painter  ;  and  Providence 
is  wiser  than  we  are." 

The  good  merchant  patted  Benjamin  on  the  head, 
and  evidently  considered  him  a  wonderful  boy.  When 
his  parents  saw  how  much  their  son's  performances 
were  admired,  they,  no  doubt,  remembered  the  proph- 
ecy of  the  old  Quaker  preacher  respecting  Ben's  fu- 
ture eminence.  Yet  they  could  not  understand  how 
he  was  ever  to  become  a  very  great  and  useful  man 
merely  by  making  pictures. 

One  evening,  shortly  after  Mr.  Pennington's  return 
to  Philadelphia,  a  package  arrived  at  Springfield,  di- 
rected to  our  little  friend  Ben. 

"What  can  it  possibly  be?"  thought  Ben,  when 
\t  was  put  into  his  hands.  "  Who  can  have  sent  me 
such  a  great  square  package  as  this  ?  " 

On  taking  off  the  thick  brown  paper  which  envel- 
oped it,  behold  !  there  was  a  paint  box,  with  a  great 
many  cakes  of  paint  and  brushes  of  various  sizes. 
[t  was  the  gift  of  good  Mr.  Pennington.  There  were 
likewise  several  squares  of  canvas  such  as  artists  use 


18  BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 

for  painting  pictures  upon,  and,  in  addition  to  all 
these  treasures,  some  beautiful  engravings  of  laud- 
ccapes.  These  were  the  first  pictures  that  Ben  had 
ever  seen  except  those  of  his  own  drawing. 

What  a  joyful  evening  was  this  for  the  little  artist ! 
At  bedtime  he  put  the  paint  box  under  his  pillow, 
and  got  hardly  a  wink  of  sleep  ;  for,  all  night  long, 
his  fancy  was  painting  pictures  in  the  darkness.  In 
the  morning  he  hurried  to  the  garret,  and  was  seen 
no  more  till  the  dinner  hour ;  nor  did  he  give  him- 
self time  to  eat  more  than  a  mouthful  or  two  of  food 
before  he  hurried  back  to  the  garret  again.  The 
next  day,  and  the  next,  he  was  just  as  busy  as  ever  ; 
until  at  last  his  mother  thought  it  time  to  ascertain 
what  he  was  about.  She  accordingly  followed  him 
to  the  garret. 

On  opening  the  door,  the  first  object  that  presented 
itself  to  her  eyes  was  our  friend  Benjamin,  giving 
the  last  touches  to  a  beautiful  picture.  He  had  cop- 
ied portions  of  two  of  the  engravings,  and  made  one 
picture  out  of  both,  with  such  admirable  skill  that  it 
was  far  more  beautiful  than  the  originals.  The  grass, 
the  trees,  the  water,  the  sky,  and  the  houses  were  all 
painted  in  their  proper  colors.  There,  too,  were  the 
Bunshine  and  the  shadow,  looking  as  natural  as  life. 

"  My  dear  child,  thou  hast  done  wonders  !  "  cried 
his  mother. 

The  good  lady  was  in  an  ecstasy  of  delight     And 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STOKIES. 


19 


we'L  might  she  be  proud  of  her  boy ;  for  there  were 
touches  in  this  picture  which  old  artists,  who  had 
spent  a  lifetime  in  the  business,  need  not  have  been 
ashamed  of.  Many  a  year  afterwards,  this  wonderful 
production  was  exhibited  at  the  Royal  Academy  in 
London. 

When  Benjamin  was  quite  a  large  lad  he  was  sent 
(o  school  at  Philadelphia.  Not  long  after  his  arrival 
he  had  a  slight  attack  of  fever,  which  confined  him 
to  his  bed.  The  light,  which  would  otherwise  have 
disturbed  him,  was  excluded  from  his  chamber  by 
means  of  closed  wooden  shutters.  At  first  it  ap- 
peared so  totally  dark  that  Ben  could  not  distin- 
guish any  object  in  the  room.  By  degrees,  however, 
his  eyes  became  accustomed  to  the  scanty  light. 

He  was  lying  on  his  back,  looking  up  towards  the 
ceiling,  when  suddenly  he  beheld  the  dim  apparition  of 
a  white  cow  moving  slowly  over  his  head !  Ben  start- 
ed, and  rubbed  his  eyes  in  the  greatest  amazement 

"  What  can  this  mean  ?  "  thought  he. 

The  white  cow  disappeared ;  and  next  came  sever- 
al pigs,  which  trotted  along  the  ceiling  and  vanished 
into  the  darkness  of  the  chamber.  So  lifelike  did 
these  grunters  look  that  Ben  almost  seemed  to  hear 
them  squeak. 

"  Well,  this  is  very  strange  !  "  said  Ben  to  himself. 

When  the  people  of  the  house  came  to  see  him, 
Benjamin  told  them  of  the  marvellous  circumstance 
which  had  occurred.     But  thev  would  not  believe  him 


20  BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 

"  Benjamin,  thou  art  surely  out  of  thy  senses  ! ' 
cried  they.  "  Plow  is  it  possible  that  a  white  covf 
and  a  litter  of  pigs  should  be  visible  on  the  ceiling 
of  a  dark  chamber  ?  " 

Ben,  however,  had  great  confidence  in  his  own  eye- 
sight, and  was  determined  to  search  the  mystery  to 
the  bottom.  For  this  purpose,  when  he  was  again 
left  alone,  he  got  out  of  bed  and  examined  the  win- 
dow shutters.  He  soon  perceived  a  small  chink  in 
one  of  them,  through  which  a  ray  of  light  found  its 
passage  and  rested  upon  the  ceiling.  Now,  the  sci- 
ence of  optics  will  inform  us  that  the  pictures  of  the 
white  cow  and  the  pigs,  and  of  other  objects  out  ot 
doors,  came  into  the  dark  chamber  through  this  nar 
row  chink,  and  were  painted  over  Benjamin's  head. 
It  is  greatly  to  his  credit  that  he  discovered  the  sci- 
entific principle  of  this  phenomenon,  and  by  means 
of  it  constructed  a  camera  obscura,  or  magic  lantern, 
out  of  a  hollow  box.  This  was  of  great  advantage 
to  him  in  drawing  landscapes. 

Well,  time  went  on,  and  Benjamin  continued  to 
draw  and  paint  pictures  until  he  had  now  reached 
the  age  when  it  was  proper  that  he  should  choose  a 
business  for  life.  His  father  and  mother  were  in  con- 
siderable perplexity  about  him.  According  to  the 
ideas  of  the  Quakers,  it  is  not  right  for  people  to 
spend  their  lives  in  occupations  that  are  of  no  real 
and  sensible  advantage  to  the  world.  Now,  what  ad- 
vantage   could    the    world    expect    from   Benjamin's 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES.  21 

pictures  ?  1  his  was  a  difficult  question ;  and,  in  order 
to  set  their  minds  at  rest,  his  parents  determined  to 
consult  the  preachers  and  wise  men  of  their  society. 
Accordingly,  they  all  assembled  in  the  meeting  house, 
and  discussed  the  matter  from  beginning  to  end. 

Finally  they  came  to  a  very  wise  decision.  It 
seemed  so  evident  that  Providence  had  created  Ben- 
jamin to  be  a  painter,  and  had  given  him  abilities 
which  would  be  thrown  away  in  any  other  business, 
that  the  Quakers  resolved  not  to  oppose  his  inclina- 
tion. They  even  acknowledged  that  the  sight  of  a 
beautiful  picture  might  convey  instruction  to  the 
mind  and  might  benefit  the  heart  as  much  as  a  good 
book  or  a  wise  discourse.  They  therefore  committed 
the  youth  to  the  direction  of  God,  being  well  assured 
that  he  best  knew  what  was  his  proper  sphere  of  use- 
fulness. The  old  men  laid  their  hands  upon  Benja- 
min's head  and  gave  him  their  blessing,  and  the  wo- 
men kissed  him  affectionately.  All  consented  that 
he  should  go  forth  into  the  world  and  learn  to  be  a 
painter  by  studying  the  best  pictures  of  ancient  and 
modern  times. 

So  our  friend  Benjamin  left  the  dwelling  of  his 
parents,  and  his  native  woods  and  streams,  and  the 
good  Quakers  of  Springfield,  and  the  Indians  who 
had  given  him  his  first  colors  ;  he  left  all  the  places 
and  persons  whom  he  had  hitherto  known,  and  re- 
turned to  them  no  more.  lie  went  first  to  Philadel- 
phia   and  afterwards  to  Europe.     Here  he  was  no- 


22  BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 

ticed  by  many  great  people,  but  retained  all  the  sobri- 
ety and  simplicity  which  he  had  learned  among  the 
Quakers.  It  is  related  of  him,  that,  when  he  was 
presented  at  the  court  of  the  Prince  of  Parma,  he 
kept  his  hat  upon  his  head  even  while  kissing  the 
Piince's  hand. 

When  he  was  twenty-fire  years  old  he  went  to 
London  and  established  himself  there  as  an  artist. 
In  due  course  of  time  he  acquired  great  fame  by 
his  pictures,  and  was  made  chief  painter  to  King 
George  III.  and  president  of  the  Royal  Academy  of 
Arts.  When  the  Quakers  of  Pennsylvania  heard  of 
his  success,  they  felt  that  the  prophecy  of  the  old 
preacher  as  to  little  Ben's  future  eminence  was  now 
accomplished.  It  is  true,  they  shook  their  heads  at 
his  pictures  of  battle  and  bloodshed,  such  as  the 
Death  of  Wolfe,  thinking  that  these  terrible  scenes 
should  not  be  held  up  to  the  admiration  of  the  world 

But  they  approved  of  the  great  paintings  in  whicl 
he  represented  the  miracles  and  sufferings  of  the  Re 
deemer  of  mankind.  King  George  employed  him  to 
adorn  a  large  and  beautiful  chapel  at  Windsor  Castle 
with  pictures  of  these  sacred  subjects.  He  likewise 
painted  a  magnificent  picture  of  Christ  Healing  the 
Sick,  which  he  gave  to  the  hospital  at  Philadelphia. 
It  was  exhibited  to  the  public,  and  produced  so  much 
profit  that  the  hospital  was  enlarged  so  as  to  accom- 
modate thirty  more  patients.  If  Benjamin  West  had 
done  no  other  good  deed  than  this,  yet  it  would  have 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIE3.  23 

been  enough  to  entitle  him  to  an  honorable  remem- 
brance forever.  At  this  very  day  there  are  thirty 
poor  people  in  the  hospital  who  owe  all  their  com- 
forts to  that  same  picture. 

We  shall  mention  only  a  single  incident  more. 
The  picture  of  Christ  Healing  the  Sick  was  exhibited 
at  the  Royal  Academy  in  London,  where  it  covered 
a  vast  space  and  displayed  a  multitude  of  figures  as 
targe  as  life.  On  the  wall,  close  beside  this  admira- 
ble picture,  hung  a  small  and  faded  landscape.  It 
was  the  same  that  little  Ben  had  painted  in  his  fa- 
ther's garret,  after  receiving  the  paint  box  and  en- 
gravings from  good  Mr.  Pennington. 

He  lived  many  years  in  peace  and  honor,  and  died 
in  1820,  at  the  age  of  eighty-two.  The  story  of  his 
life  is  almost  as  wonderful  as  a  fairy  tale  ;  for  there 
are  few  stranger  transformations  than  that  of  a  little 
unknown  Quaker  boy,  in  the  wilds  of  America,  into 
the  most  distinguished  English  painter  of  his  day. 
Let  us  each  make  the  best  use  of  our  natural  abilities 
as  Benjamin  West  did  ;  and,  with  the  blessing  of  Prov- 
idence, we  shall  arrive  at  some  good  end.  As  for  fame 
it  is  but  little  matter  whether  we  acquire  it  or  not. 

"  Thank  you  for  the  story,  my  dear  father,"  said 
Edward,  when  it  was  finished.  ' '  Do  you  know  that 
it  seems  as  if  I  could  see  things  without  the  help  of 
my  eyes  ?  While  you  were  speaking  I  have  seen 
little  Ben,  and  the  baby  in  its  cradle,  and  the  Indians 


24  BIOGRAnilCAL   3TORIE8. 

and  the  white  cow,  and  the  pigs,  and  kind  Mr.  Pen- 
nington, and  all  the  good  old  Quakers,  almost  a,*' 
plainly  as  if  they  were  in  this  very  room." 

"  It  is  because  your  attention  was  not  disturbed  by 
outward  objects,"  replied  Mr.  Temple.  "  People, 
svhen  deprived  of  sight,  often  have  more  vivid  ideas 
than  those  who  possess  the  perfect  use  of  their  eyes. 
I  will  venture  to  say  that  George  has  not  attended  to 
the  story  quite  so  closely." 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  George  ;  "  but  it  was  a  very 
pretty  story  for  all  that.  Plow  I  should  have  laughed 
to  see  Ben  making  a  paint  brush  out  of  the  black 
cat's  tail !  I  intend  to  try  the  experiment  with  Em- 
ily's kitten." 

"  O,  no,  no,  George !  "  cried  Emily,  earnestly, 
"My  kitten  cannot  spare  her  tail." 

Edward  being  an  invalid,  it  was  now  time  for  him 
to  retire  to  bed.  When  the  family  bade  him  good 
night  he  turned  his  face  towards  them,  looking  very 
loath  to  part. 

"  I  shall  not  know  when  morning  comes,"  said  he, 
sorrowfully.  "  And  besides,  1  want  to  hear  your 
voices  all  the  time ;  for,  when  nobody  is  speaking,  it 
seems  as  if  I  were  alone  in  a  dark  world." 

"  You  must  have  faith,  my  dear  child,"  replied  his 
mother.  "  Faith  is  the  soul's  eyesight ;  and  when 
we  possess  it  the  world  is  never  dark  nor  lonely." 


CHAPTER    III. 

The  next  day  Edward  began  to  get  accustomed  to 
his  new  condition  of  life.  Once,  indeed,  when  his 
parents  were  out  of  the  way  and  only  Emily  was 
left  to  take  care  of  him,  he  could  not  resist  the 
temptation  to  thrust  aside  the  bandage  and  peep  at 
the  anxious  face  of  his  little  nurse.  But,  in  spite  of 
the  dimness  of  the  chamber,  the  experiment  caused 
him  so  much  pain  that  he  felt  no  inclination  to  take 
another  look.  So,  with  a  deep  sigh,  he  resigned 
himself  to  his  fate. 

"  Emily,  pray  talk  to  me  !  "  said  he,  somewhat  im- 
patiently. 

Now,  Emily  was  a  remarkably  silent  little  girl, 
and  did  not  possess  that  liveliness  of  disposition 
which  renders  some  children  such  excellent  compan- 
ions. She  seldom  laughed,  and  had  not  the  faculty 
of  making  many  words  about  small  matters.  Bu* 
the  love  and  earnestness  of  her  heart  taught  her  how 
to  amuse  poor  Edward  in  his  darkness.  She  put  her 
knitting   work  into  his  hands. 


26  BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 

"  You  must  learn  how  to  knit,"  said  she. 

"  What !  without  using  my  eyes  ?  "  cried  Edward 

"  I  can  knit  with  my  eyes  shut,"  replied  Emily. 

Then  with  her  own  little  hands  she  guided  Ed- 
ward's fingers  while  he  set  about  this  new  occupa- 
tion. So  awkward  were  his  first  attempts  that  any 
other  little  girl  would  have  laughed  heartily.  But 
Emily  preserved  her  gravity,  and  showed  the  utmost 
patience  in  taking  up  the  innumerable  stitches  which 
he  let  down.  In  the  course  of  an  hour  or  two  his 
progress  was  quite  encouraging. 

When  evening  came,  Edward  acknowledged  that 
the  day  had  been  far  less  wearisome  than  he  antici- 
pated. But  he  was  glad,  nevertheless,  when  his 
father  and  mother,  and  George  and  Emily,  all  took 
their  seats  around  his  chair.  He  put  out  his  hand  to 
grasp  each  of  their  hands,  and  smiled  with  a  very 
bright  expression  upon  his  lips. 

"  Now  I  can  see  you  all  with  my  mind's  eye," 
said  he.  "  And  now,  father,  pray  tell  us  another 
story." 

So  Mr  Temple  began. 

SIR    ISAAC    NEWTON. 
Bob*  1G42.     Died  1727. 

On  Christmas  day,  in  the  year  1642,  Isaac  New 
ton  was  born  at  the  small  village  of  Woolsthorpe,  in 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES.  27 

England.  Little  did  his  mother  think,  when  she  be- 
held her  new-born  babe,  that  he  was  destined  to  ex- 
plain many  matters  which  had  been  a  mystery  evei 
since  the  creation  of  the  world. 

Isaac's  father  being  dead,  Mrs.  Newton  was  mar- 
ried again  to  a  clergyman,  and  went  to  reside  at 
North  "Witham.  Her  son  was  left  to  the  care  of  his 
good  old  grandmother,  who  was  very  kind  to  him 
and  sent  him  to  school.  In  his  early  years  Isaac 
did  not  appear  to  be  a  very  bright  scholar,  but  was 
chiefly  remarkable  for  his  ingenuity  in  all  mechanical 
occupations.  He  had  a  set  of  little  tools  and  saws  of 
various  sizes  manufactured  by  himself.  With  the 
aid  of  these  Isaac  contrived  to  make  many  curious 
articles,  at  which  he  worked  with  so  much  skill  that 
he  seemed  to  have  been  born  with  a  saw  or  chisel  in 
hand. 

The  neighbors  looked  with  vast  admiration  at  the 
things  which  Isaac  manufactured.  And  his  old  grand- 
mother, I  suppose,  was  never  weary  of  talking  about 
him. 

"  He'll  make  a  capital  workman  one  of  these 
days,"  she  would  probably  say.  "  No  fear  but  what 
Isaac  will  do  well  in  the  world  and  be  a  rich  man 
before  he  dies." 

It  is  amusing  to  conjecture  what  were  the  anticipa- 
tions of  his  grandmother  and  the  neighbors  about 
Isaac's  future  life.     Some  of  them,  perhaps,  fancied 


28  BIOCxRArHICAL    STORIES. 

that  lie  would  make  beautiful  furniture  of  mahogany, 
rosewood,  or  polished  oak,  inlaid  with  ivory  and 
ebony  and  magnificently  gilded.  And  then,  doubt- 
less, all  the  rich  people  would  purchase  these  fine 
things  to  adorn  their  drawing  rooms.  Others  prob- 
ably thought  that  little  Isaac  was  destined  to  be  an 
architect,  and  would  build  splendid  mansions  for  the 
nobility  and  gentry,  and  churches  too,  with  the  tallest 
steeples  that  had  ever  been  seen  in  England. 

Some  of  his  friends,  no  doubt,  advised  Isaac  s 
grandmother  to  apprentice  him  to  a  clockmaker ;  for, 
besides  his  mechanical  skill,  the  boy  seemed  to  have 
a  taste  for  mathematics,  which  would  be  very  useful 
to  him  in  that  profession.  And  then,  in  due  time, 
Isaac  would  set  up  for  himself,  and  would  manufac- 
ture curious  clocks,  like  those  that  contain  sets  of 
dancing  figures,  which  issue  from  the  dialplate  when 
the  hour  is  struck ;  or  like  those  where  a  ship  sails 
across  the  face  of  the  clock,  and  is  seen  tossing  up 
and  down  on  the  waves  as  often  as  the  pendulum 
ribrates. 

Indeed,  there  was  some  ground  for  supposing  that 
Isaac  would  devote  himself  to  the  manufacture  of 
clocks;  since  he  had  already  made  one,  of  a  kind 
which  nobody  had  ever  heard  of  before.  It  was  set 
a-going,  not  by  wheels  and  weights  like  other  clocks 
but  by  the  dropping  of  water.  This  was  an  object 
of  great  wonderment  to  all  the  people  round  about 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES.  29 

and  it  must  be  confessed  that  there  are  few  boys,  or 
men  either,  who  could  contrive  to  tell  what  a  clock 
it  is  by  means  of  a  bowl  of  water. 

Besides  the  water  clock,  Isaac  made  a  sundial 
Thus  his  grandmother  was  never  at  a  loss  to  know 
the  hour ;  for  the  water  clock  would  tell  it  in  the 
shade,  and  the  dial  in  the  sunshine.  The  sundial  is 
said  to  be  still  in  existence  at  Woolsthorpe,  on  the 
corner  of  the  house  where  Isaac  dwelt.  If  so,  it 
must  have  marked  the  passage  of  every  sunny  hour 
that  has  elapsed  since  Isaac  Newton  was  a  boy.  It 
marked  all  the  famous  moments  of  his  life  ;  it  marked 
the  hour  of  his  death ;  and  still  the  sunshine  creeps 
slowly  over  it,  as  regularly  as  when  Isaac  first  set 
it  up. 

Yet  we  must  not  say  that  the  sundial  has  lasted 
longer  than  its  maker  ;  for  Isaac  Newton  will  exist 
long  after  the  dial  —  yea,  and  long  after  the  sun 
itself — shall  have  crumbled  to  decay. 

Isaac  possessed  a  wonderful  faculty  of  acquiring 
knowledge  by  the  simplest  means.  For  instance, 
what  method  do  you  suppose  he  took  to  find  out  the 
strength  of  the  wind  ?  You  will  never  guess  how 
the  boy  could  compel  that  unseen,  inconstant,  and 
ungovernable  wonder,  the  wind,  to  tell  him  the  meas- 
ure of  his  strength.  Yet  nothing  can  be  more  simple. 
He  jumped  against  the  wind ;  and  by  the  length  of 
his  jump  he  could  calculate  the  force  of  a  gentle 


30  BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 

breeze,  a  brisk  gale,  or  a  tempest.  Thus,  even  in 
his  boyish  sports,  he  was  continually  searching  out 
the  secrets  of  philosophy. 

Not  far  from  his  grandmother's  residence  there  was 
a  windmill  which  operated  on  a  new  plan.  Isaac 
was  in  tjie  habit  of  going  thither  frequently,  and 
would  spend  whole  hours  in  examining  its  various 
parts.  While  the  mill  was  at  rest  he  pried  into  its 
internal  machinery.  When  its  broad  sails  were  set 
in  motion  by  the  wind  he  watched  the  process  by 
which  the  millstones  were  made  to  revolve  and 
crush  the  grain  that  was  put  into  the  hopper.  After 
gaining  a  thorough  knowledge  of  its  construction  he 
was  observed  to  be  unusually  busy  with  his  tools. 

It  was  not  long  before  his  grandmother  and  aiJ 
the  neighborhood  knew  what  Isaac  had  been  about. 
He  had  constructed  a  model  of  the  windmill.  Though 
not  so  large,  I  suppose,  as  one  of  the  box  traps  which 
boys  set  to  catch  squirrels,  yet  every  part  of  the  mill 
and  its  machinery  was  complete.  Its  little  sails 
were  neatly  made  of  linen,  and  whirled  round  very 
6wiftly  when  the  mill  was  placed  in  a  draught  of  air. 
Even  a  puff  of  wind  from  Isaac's  mouth  or  from  a 
a  pair  of  bellows  was  sufficient  to  set  the  sails  in 
motion.  And,  what  was  most  curious,  if  a  handful 
cf  grains  of  wheat  were  put  into  the  little  hopper, 
they  would  soon  be  converted  into  snow-white  flour. 

Isaac's   playmates  were   enchanted   with  his  new 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES.  31 

windmill.  They  thought  that  nothing  so  pretty  and 
so  wonderful  had  ever  been  seen  in  the  whole  world. 

"  But,  Isaac,"  said  one  of  them,  "  you  have  for- 
gotten one  thing  that  belongs  to  a  mill." 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  asked  Isaac  ;  for  he  supposed 
that,  from  the  roof  of  the  mill  to  its  foundation,  he 
had  forgotten  nothing. 

"  Why,  where  is  the  miller  ?  "  said  his  friend. 

"That  is  true  —  I  must  look  out  for  one,"  said 
Isaac  ,•  and  he  set  himself  to  consider  how  the  defi- 
ciency should  be  supplied. 

He  might  easily  have  made  the  miniature  figure 
of  a  man  ;  but  then  it  would  not  have  been  able  to 
move  about  and  perform  the  duties  of  a  miller.  As 
Captain  Lemuel  Gulliver  had  not  yet  discovered  the 
Island  of  Liliput,  Isaac  did  not  know  that  there  were 
little  men  in  the  world  whose  size  was  just  suited  to 
his  windmill.  It  so  happened,  however,  that  a  mouse 
had  just  been  caught  in  the  trap  ;  and,  as  no  other  mill- 
er could  be  found,  Mr.  Mouse  was  appointed  to  that 
important  office.  The  new  miller  made  a  very  respect- 
able appearance  in  his  dark-gray  coat.  To  be  sure, 
he  had  not  a  very  good  character  for  honesty,  and  was 
suspected  of  sometimes  stealing  a  portion  of  the  grain 
which  was  given  him  to  grind.  But  perhaps  some 
two-legged  millers  are  quite  as  dishonest  as  this  small 
quadruped. 

As  Isaac  grew  older,  it  was  found  that  he  had  far 


32  BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 

more  important  matters  in  his  mind  than  the  manu- 
facture of  toys  like  the  little  windmill.  All  day  long, 
if  left  to  himself,  he  *was  either  absorbed  in  thought 
or  engaged  in  some  book  of  mathematics  or  natural 
philosophy.  At  night,  I  think  it  probable,  he  looked 
up  with  reverential  curiosity  to  the  stars,  and  won- 
dered whether  they  were  worlds  like  our  own,  and 
how  great  was  their  distance  from  the  earth,  and 
what  was  the  power  that  kept  them  in  their  courses. 
Perhaps,  even  so  early  in  life,  Isaac  Newton  felt  a 
presentiment  that  he  should  be  able,  hereafter,  to 
answer  all  these  questions. 

When  Isaac  was  fourteen  years  old,  his  mother's 
second  husband  being  now  dead,  she  wished  her  son 
to  leave  school  and  assist  her  in  managing  the  farm  at 
"Woolsthorpe.  For  a  year  or  two,  therefore,  he  tried 
to  turn  his  attention  to  farming.  But  his  mind  was  so 
bent  on  becoming  a  scholar  that  his  mother  sent  him 
back  to  school,  and  afterwards  to  the  University  of 
Cambridge. 

I  have  now  finished  my  anecdotes  of  Isaac  New- 
ton's boyhood.  My  story  would  be  far  too  long 
were  I  to  mention  all  the  splendid  discoveries  which 
he  made  after  he  came  to  be  a  man.  He  was  the  first 
that  found  out  the  nature  of  light ;  for,  before  his 
day,  nobody  could  tell  what  the  sunshine  was  com- 
posed of.  You  remember,  I  suppose,  the  story  of  an 
epple's  falling  on  his  head,  and  thus  leading  him  to 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES.  66 

discover  the  force  of  gravitation,  which  keeps  the 
heavenly  bodies  in  their  courses.  When  he  had 
once  got  hold  of  this  idea,  he  never  permitted  his 
mind  to-  lest  until  he  had  searched  out  all  the  laws  by 
which  the  planets  are  guided  through  the  sky.  This  he 
did  as  thoroughly  as  if  he  had  gone  up  among  the  stars 
and  tracked  them  in  their  orbits.  The  boy  had  found 
out  the  mechanism  of  a  windmill ;  the  man  explained 
to  his  felloAv-men  the  mechanism  of  the  universe. 

"While  making  these  researches  he  was  accustomed 
to  spend  night  after  night  in  a  lofty  tower,  gazing  at 
the  heavenly  bodies  through  a  telescope.  His  mind 
was  lifted  far  above  the  things  of  this  world.  He 
may  be  said,  indeed,  to  have  spent  the  greater  part 
of  his  life  in  worlds  that  lie  thousands  and  millions 
of  miles  away ;  for  where  the  thoughts  and  the  heart 
are,  there  is  our  true  existence. 

Did  you  never  hear  the  story  of  Newton  and  his 
little  dog  Diamond?  One  day,  when  he  was  fifty 
years  old,  and  had  been  hard  at  work  more  than 
•wenty  years  studying  the  theory  of  light,  he  went 
out  of  his  chamber,  leaving  his  little  dog  asleep  be- 
fore the  fire.  On  the  table  lay  a  heap  of  manuscript 
papers,  containing  all  the  discoveries  which  Newton 
had  made  during  those  twenty  years.  WTien  his 
master  was  gone,  up  rose  little  Diamond,  jumped  upon 
the  table,  and  overthrew  the  lighted  candle.  The 
papers  immediately  caught  fire. 


34  BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIK8. 

Just  as  the  destruction  was  completed  Newton 
opened  the  chamber  door,  and  perceived  that  the 
labors  of  twenty  years  were  reduced  to  a  heap  of 
ashes.  There  stood  little  Diamond,  the  author  of  all 
the  mischief.  Almost  any  other  man  would  have 
sentenced  the  dog  to  immediate  death.  But  Newton 
patted  him  on  the  head  with  his  usual  kindness,  al- 
though grief  was  at  his  heart. 

"O  Diamond,  Diamond,"  exclaimed  he,  "thou 
little  knowest  the  mischief  thou  hast  done !  " 

This  incident  affected  his  health  and  spirits  for 
some  time  afterwards  ;  but,  from  his  conduct  towards 
the  little  dog,  you  may  judge  what  was  the  sweetness 
of  his  temper. 

Newton  lived  to  be  a  very  old  man,  and  acquired 
great  renown,  and  was  made  a  member  of  parliament, 
And  received  the  honor  of  knighthood  from  the  king. 
But  he  cared  little  for  earthly  fame  and  honors,  and 
felt  no  pride  in  the  vastness  of  his  knowledge.  AH 
that  he  had  learned  only  made  him  feel  how  little  he 
knew  in  comparison  to  what  remained  to  be  known. 

"  I  seem  to  myself  like  a  child,"  observed  he, 
"  playing  on  the  sea  shore,  and  picking  up  here  and 
there  a  curious  shell  or  a  pretty  pebble,  while  the 
boundless  ocean  of  Truth  lies  undiscovered  before 
me. 

At  last,  in  1727,  when  he  was  fourscore  and  five 
years   old,   Sir   Isaac   Newton   died  —  or  rather    he 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES.  35 

ceased  to  live  on  earth.  We  may  be  permitted  to 
believe  that  he  is  still  searching  out  the  infinite  wis- 
dom and  goodness  of  the  Creator  as  earnestly,  and 
with  even  more  success  than  while  his  spirit  animated 
a  mortal  body.  He  has  left  a  fame  behind  him 
which  will  be  as  endurable  as  if  his  name  were  writ- 
ten in  letters  of  light  formed  by  the  stars  upon  the 
midnight  sky. 

"  I  love  to  hear  about  mechanical  contrivances, 
such  as  the  water  clock  and  the  little  windmill,"  re- 
marked George.  "  I  suppose,  if  Sir  Isaac  Newton 
had  only  thought  of  it,  he  might  have  found  out  the 
steam  engine,  and  railroads,  and  all  the  other  famous 
inventions  that  have  come  into  use  since  his  day." 

"  Very  possibly  he  might,"  replied  Mr.  Temple , 
"  and  no  doubt  a  great  many  people  would  think  it 
more  useful  to  manufacture  steam  engines  than  to 
search  out  the  system  of  the  universe.  Other  great 
astronomers  besides  Newton  have  been  endowed  with 
mechanical  genius.  There  was  David  Rittenhouse, 
an  American,  —  he  made  a  perfect  little  water  mill 
when  he  was  only  seven  or  eight  years  old.  But 
this  sort  of  ingenuity  is  but  a  mere  trifle  in  compari- 
son with  the  other  talents  of  such  men." 

"  It  must  have  been  beautiful,"  said  Edward,  "  to 
spend  whole  nights  in  a  high  tower  as  Newton  did 
gazing  at  the  stars,  and  the  comets,  and  the  meteors 


36  BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 

But  what  would  Newton  have  done  had  he  been 
blind  ?  or  if  his  eyes  had  been  no  better  than 
mine  ? " 

"  Why,  even  then,  my  dear  child,"  observed  Mrs. 
Temple,  "  he  would  have  found  out  some  way  of 
enlightening  his  mind  and  of  elevating  his  soul. 
But  come  ;  little  Emily  is  waiting  to  bid  you  good 
night.  You  must  go  to  sleep  and  dream  of  seeing 
all  our  faces." 

"  But  how  sad  it  will  be  when  I  awake  I "  mur- 
mured Edward. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

In  the  course  of  the  next  day  the  harmony  of  oui 
little  family  was  disturbed  by  something  like  a  quar- 
rel between  George  and  Edward. 

The  former,  though  he  loved  his  brother  dearly, 
had  found  it  quite  too  great  a  sacrifice  of  his  own 
enjoyments  to  spend  all  his  play  time  in  a  darkened 
chamber.  Edward,  on  the  other  hand,  was  inclined 
to  be  despotic.  -  lie  felt  as  if  his  bandaged  eyes  enti- 
tled him  to  demand  that  every  body  who  enjoyed  the 
blessing  of  sight  should  contribute  to  his  comfort 
and  amusement.  lie  therefore  insisted  that  George, 
instead  of  going  out  to  play  at  football,  should  join 
with  himself  and  Emily  in  a  game  of  questions  and 
answers. 

George  resolutely  refused,  and  ran  out  of  the  house. 
He  did  not  revisit  Edward's  chamber  till  the  evening, 
when  he  stole  in,  looking  confused,  yet  somewhat 
sullen,  and  sat  down  beside  his  father's  chair.  It 
was  evident,  by  a  motion  of  Edward's  head  and  a  slight 
trembling  of  his  lips,  that  he  was  aware  of  George's 


38  BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 

entrance,  though  his  footsteps  had  been  almost  inau- 
dible. Emily,  with  her  serious  and  earnest  little 
face,  looked  from  one  to  the  other,  as  if  she  longed  tc 
be  a  messenger  of  peace  between  them. 

Mr.  Temple,  without  seeming  to  notice  any  oi 
these  circumstances,  began  a  story. 

SAMUEL   JOHNSON. 
Bors  1700.     Died  1784. 

"  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Michael  Johnson,  of  Lichfield, 
one  morning,  "  I  am  very  feeble  and  ailing  to-day. 
You  must  go  to  Uttoxeter  in  my  stead,  and  tend  the 
book  stall  in  the  market-place  there." 

This  was  spoken  above  a  hundred  years  ago,  by  an 
elderly  man,  who  had  once  been  a  thriving  bookseller 
at  Lichfield,  in  England.  Being  now  in  reduced 
circumstances,  he  was  forced  to  go  every  market  day 
and  sell  books  at  a  stall,  in  the  neighboring  village  of 
Uttoxeter. 

His  son,  to  whom  Mr.  Johnson  spoke,  was  a  great 
boy,  of  very  singular  aspect.  He  had  an  intelligent 
face  ;  but  it  was  seamed  and  distorted  by  a  scrofulous 
humor,  which  affected  his  eyes  so  badly  that  some- 
times he  was  almost  blind.  Owing  to  the  same  cause, 
his  head  would  often  shake  with  a  tremulous  motion, 
as  if  he  were  afflicted  with  the  palsy.  When  Sam 
was  an  infantt  the  famous  Queen  Anne  had  tried  ta 


BIOGRAPHICAL   STORIES  39 

cure  him  01  this  disease  by  laying  her  royal  hands 
upon  his  head.  But  though  the  touch  of  a  king  01 
queen  was  supposed  to  be  a  certain  remedy  for  scrof- 
ula, it  produced  no  good  effect  upon  Sam  Johnson. 

At  the  time  which  we  speak  of  the  poor  lad  was 
not  very  well  dressed,  and  wore  shoes  from  which  his 
toes  peeped  out ;  for  his  old  father  had  barely  the 
means  of  supporting  his  wife  and  children.  But, 
poor  as  the  family  were,  young  Sam  Johnson  had  as 
much  pride  as  any  nobleman's  son  in  England.  The 
fact  was,  he  felt  conscious  of  uncommon  sense  and 
ability,  which,  in  his  own  opinion,  entitled  him  to 
great  respect  from  the  world.  Perhaps  he  would 
have  been  glad  if  grown  people  had  treated  him  as 
reverentially  as  his  schoolfellows  did.  Three  of 
them  were  accustomed  to  come  for  him  every  morn- 
ing ;  and  while  he  sat  upon  the  back  of  one,  the  two 
others  supported  him  on  each  side ;  and  thus  he  rode 
to  school  in  triumph. 

Being  a  personage  of  so  much  importance,  Sam 
could  not  bear  the  idea  of  standing  all  day  in  Uttox- 
eter  market  offering  books  to  the  rude  and  ignorant 
country  people  Doubtless  he  felt  the  more  reluctant 
on  account  of  his  shabby  clothes,  and  the  disorder  of 
his  eyes,  and  the  tremulous  motion  of  his  head. 

When  Mr.  Michael  Johnson  spoke  Sam  pouted 
and  made  an  indistinct  grumbling  in  his  throat ;  then 
\ie  locked  his  old  father  in  the  face  and  answered 
him  loudly  and  deliberately. 


40  BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 

"  Sir,"  said  he,  "  I  will  not  go  to  Uttoxeter  mar- 
ket!" 

Mr.  Johnson  had  seen  a  great  deal  of  the  lad's 
obstinacy  ever  since  his  birth ;  and  while  Sam  was 
younger,  the  old  gentleman  had  probably  used  the  rod 
whenever  occasion  seemed  to  require.  But  he  was 
now  too  feeble  and  too  much  out  of  spirits  to  contend 
with  this  stubborn  and  violent-tempered  boy.  He 
therefore  gave  up  the  point  at  once,  and  prepared  to 
go  to  Uttoxeter  himself. 

"  Well,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Johnson,  as  he  took  his  hat 
and  staff,  "  if  for  the  sake  of  your  foolish  pride  you  can 
suffer  your  poor  sick  father  to  stand  all  day  in  the 
noise  and  confusion  of  the  market  when  he  ought  to  be 
in  his  bed,  I  have  no  more  to  say.  But  you  will 
think  of  this,  Sam,  when  I  am  dead  and  gone." 

So  the  poor  old  man  (perhaps  with  a  tear  in  his  eve, 
but  certainly  with  sorrow  in  his  heart)  set  forth  to- 
wards Uttoxeter.  The  grayhaired,  feeble,  melancholy 
Michael  Johnson !  How  sad  a  thing  it  was  that  he 
should  be  forced  to  go,  in  his  sickness,  and  toil  for 
the  support  of  an  ungrateful  son  who  M-as  too  proud 
to  do  any  thing  for  his  father,  or  his  mother,  or  him- 
self!  Sam  looked  after  Mr.  Johnson  with  a  sullen 
countenance  till  he  was  out  of  sight. 

But  when  the  old  man's  figure,  as  he  went  stoop- 
ing along  the  street,  was  no  more  to  be  seen,  the  boy's 
heart  began  to  smite  him.     He  had  a  vivid  imaarina- 


BI'jGRAPHICAL    STORIES.  41 

tion,  and  it  tormented  him  with  the  image  of  his 
father  standing  in  the  market-place  of  Uttoxeter  and 
offering  his  books  to  the  noisy  crowd  around  him. 
Sam  seemed  to  behold  him  arranging  his  literary 
merchandise  upon  the  stall  in  such  a  way  as  was  best 
calculated  to  attract  notice.  Here  was  Addison's 
Spectator,  a  long  row  of  little  volumes ;  here  was 
Pope's  translation  of  the  Iliad  and  Odyssey  ;  here  were 
Dryden's  poems,  or  those  of  Prior.  Here,  likewise, 
were  Gulliver's  Travels,  and  a  variety  of  little  gilt- 
covered  children's  books,  such  as  Tom  Thumb,  Jack 
the  Giant  Queller,  Mother  Goose's  Melodies,  and 
others  which  our  great-grand  parents  used  to  read  in 
their  childhood.  And  here  were  sermons  for  the 
pious,  and  pamphlets  for  the  politicians,  and  ballads, 
some  merry  and  some  dismal  ones,  for  the  country 
people  to  sing. 

Sam,  in  imagination,  saw  his  father  offer  these  books, 
pamphlets,  and  ballads,  now  to  the  rude  yeomen  who 
perhaps  could  not  read  a  word ;  now  to  the  country 
squires,  who  cared  for  nothing  but  to  hunt  hares  and 
foxes ;  now  to  the  children,  who  chose  to  spend 
their  coppers  for  sugar  plums  or  gingerbread  rather 
than  for  picture  books.  And  if  Mr.  Johnson  should 
Bell  a  book  to  man,  woman,  or  child,  it  would  cost  him 
an  hour's  talk  to  get  a  profit  of  only  sixpence. 

"  My    poor    father ! "    thought    Sam    to    himsel£ 
'  How  his  head  will  ache !  and  how  heavy  his  heart 


42  BIOGRAPHICAL   8TORIES. 

will  be !     I  am  almost  sorry  that  I  did  not  do  as  he 
bade  me." 

Then  the  boy  went  to  his  mother,  who  was  busy 
about  the  house.  She  did  not  know  of  what  had 
passed  between  Mr.  Johnson  and  Sam. 

"  Mother,"  said  he,  "  did  you  think  father  seemed 
very  ill  to-day  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Sam,"  answered  his  mother,  turning  with  a 
flushed  face  from  the  fire,  where  she  was  cooking 
their  scanty  dinner.  "  Your  father  did  look  very  ill  ; 
and  it  is  a  pity  he  did  not  send  you  to  Uttoxeter  in 
his  stead.  You  are  a  great  boy  now,  and  would 
rejoice,  I  am  sure,  to  do  something  for  your  poor 
father,  who  has  done  so  much  for  you." 

The  lad  made  no  reply.  But  again  his  imagina- 
tion set  to  work  and  conjured  up  another  picture  cf 
poor  Michael  Johnson.  He  was  standing  in  the  hot 
sunshine  of  the  market-place,  and  looking  so  weary, 
sick,  and  disconsolate,  that  the  eyes  of  all  the  crowd 
were  drawn  to  him.  "  Had  this  old  man  no  son," 
the  people  would  say  among  themselves,  "  who 
might  have  taken  his  place  at  the  book  stall  while 
the  father  kept  his  bed  ?  "  And  perhaps,  —  but  this 
was  a  terrible  thought  for  Sam  !  —  perhaps  his  father 
would  faint  away  and  fall  down  in  the  market-place, 
with  his  gray  hair  in  the  dust  and  his  venerable  face 
as  deathlike  as  that  of  a  corpse.  And  there  would 
be  the  bystanders  gazing  earnestly  at  Mr.  Johnson 
and  whispering,  "  Is  he  dead  ?     Is  he  dead  ?  " 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES.  43 

And  Sam  shuddered  as  he  repeated  to  himself 
"  Is  he  dead  ?  " 

"  O,  I  have  been  a  cruel  son !  "  thought  he, 
within  his  own  heart.  "  God  forgive  me !  God 
forgive  me  !  " 

But  God  could  not  yet  forgive  him  ;  for  he  was 
not  truly  penitent.  Had  he  been  so,  he  would  have 
hastened  away  that  very  moment  to  Uttoxeter,  and 
have  fallen  at  his  father's  feet,  even  in  the  midst  of 
the  crowded  market-place.  There  he  would  have 
confessed  his  fault,  and  besought  Mr.  Johnson  to  go 
home  and  leave  the  rest  of  the  day's  work  to  him. 
But  such  was  Sam's  pride  and  natural  stubbornness 
that  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  this  humiliation. 
Yet  he  ought  to  have  done  so,  for  his  own  sake,  for 
his  father's  sake,  and  for  God's  sake. 

After  sunset  old  Michael  Johnson  came  slowly 
home  and  sat  down  in  his  customary  chair.  He  said 
nothing  to  Sam ;  nor  do  I  know  that  a  single  word 
ever  passed  between  them  on  the  subject  of  the  son's 
disobedience.  In  a  few  years  his  father  died,  and 
left  Sam  to  fight  his  way  through  the  world  by  him- 
self. It  would  make  our  story  much  too  long  were 
[  to  tell  you  even  a  few  of  the  remarkable  events  of 
Sam's  life.  Moreover,  there  is  the  less  need  of  this, 
because  many  books  have  been  written  about  that 
poor  boy,  and  the  fame  that  he  acquhed,  and  all  that 
he  did  or  talked  of  doing  after  he  came  to  be  a  man 


44  BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 

But  one  thing  I  must  not  neglect  to  say.  From 
his  boyhood  upward  until  the  latest  day  of  his  life 
he  never  forgot  the  story  of  Uttoxeter  market.  Often 
when  he  was  a  scholar  of  the  University  of  Oxford,  or 
master  of  an  academy  at  Edial,  or  a  writer  for  the 
London  booksellers,  —  in  all  his  poverty  and  toil  and 
in  all  his  success,  —  while  he  was  walking  the  streets 
without  a  shilling  to  buy  food,  or  when  the  greatest 
men  of  England  were  proud  to  feast  him  at  their  ta- 
ble,—  still  that  heavy  and  remorseful  thought  came 
back  to  him,  "  I  was  cruel  to  my  poor  father  in  his 
illness  ! "  Many  and  many  a  time,  awake  or  in  his 
dreams,  he  seemed  to  see  old  Michael  Johnson  stand- 
ing in  the  dust  and  confusion  of  the  market-place 
and  pressing  his  withered  hand  to  his  forehead  as  if 
it  ached. 

Alas  !  my  dear  children,  it  is  a  sad  thing  to  have 
such  a  thought  as  this  to  bear  us  company  through 
life. 

Though  the  story  was  but  half  finished,  yet,  as  it 
was  longer  than  usual,  Mr.  Temple  here  made  a 
short  pause.  He  perceived  that  Emily  was  in  tears 
and  Edward  turned  his  half-veiled  face  towards  the 
speaker  with  an  air  of  great  earnestness  and  interest. 
As  for  George,  he  had  withdrawn  into  the  dusk} 
shadow  behind  his  father's  chair. 


CHAPTER    V. 

In  a  few  moments  Mr.  Temple  resumed  the  sto- 
ry, as  follows :  — 

SAMUEL    JOHNSON. 

CONTINUED. 

Well,  my  children,  fifty  years  had  passed  away 
since  young  Sam  Johnson  had  shown  himself  so  hard- 
hearted towards  his  father.  It  was  now  market  day 
in  the  village  of  Uttoxeter. 

In  the  street  of  the  village  you  might  see  cattle 
dealers  with  cows  and  oxen  for  sale,  and  pig  drovers 
with  herds  of  squeaking  swine,  and  farmers  with 
cartloads  of  cabbages,  turnips,  onions,  and  all  other 
produce  of  the  soil.  Xow  and  then  a  farmer's  red- 
faced  wife  trotted  along  on  horseback,  with  butter 
and  cheese  in  two  large  panniers.  The  people  cf  the 
village,  with  country  squires,  and  other  visitors  from 
the  neighborhood,  walked  hither  and  thither,  trading, 
jesting,  quarrelling   and  making  just  such  a  bustle  a» 


46 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 


their  fathers  and  grandfathers  had  made  half  a  cen- 
tury before. 

In  one  part  of  the  street  there  was  a  puppet  show, 
with  a  ridiculous  merryandrew,  who  kept  both 
grown  people  and  children  in  a  roar  of  laughter.  On 
the  opposite  side  was  the  old  stone  church  of  Ut- 
toxeter,  with  ivy  climbing  up  its  walls  and  partly 
obscuring  its  Gothic  windows. 

There  was  a  clock  in  the  gray  tower  of  the  ancient 
church,  and  the  hands  on  the  dialplate  had  now  al- 
most reached  the  hour  of  noon.  At  this  busiest  hour 
of  the  market  a  strange  old  gentleman  was  seen  mak- 
ing his  way  among  the  crowd.  He  was  very  tall  and 
bulky,  and  wore  a  brown  coat  and  smallclothes,  with 
black  worsted  stockings  and  buckled  shoes.  On  his 
head  was  a  three-cornered  hat,  beneath  which  a  bushy 
gray  wig  thrust  itself  out,  all  in  disorder.  The  old 
gentleman  elbowed  the  people  aside,  and  forced  his 
way  through  the  midst  of  them  with  a  singular  kind 
of  gait,  rolling  his  body  hither  and  thither,  so  that  he 
needed  twice  as  much  room  as  any  other  person  there. 

"  Make  way,  sir  !  "  he  would  cry  out,  in  a  loud, 
harsh  voice,  when  somebody  happened  to  interrupt 
his  progress.  "  Sir,  you  intrude  your  person  into 
the   public  thoroughfare  !  " 

"  What  a  queer  old  fellow  this  is  !  "  muttered  the 
people  among  themselves,  hardly  knowing  whether  tc 
laugh  or  to  be  angry. 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES.  47 

But  when  they  looked  into  the  venerable  stranger's 
face,  not  the  most  thoughtless  among  them  dared  to 
offer  him  the  least  impertinence.  Though  his  fea- 
tures were  scarred  and  distorted  with  the  scrofula, 
and  though  his  eyes  were  dim  and  bleared,  yet  there 
was  something  of  authority  and  wisdom  in  his  look, 
which  impressed  them  all  with  awe.  So  they  stood 
aside  to  let  him  pass  ;  and  the  old  gentleman  made 
his  way  across  the  market-place,  and  paused  near  the 
corner  of  the  ivy-mantled  church.  Just  as  he  reached 
it  the  clock  struck  twelve. 

On  the  very  spot  of  ground  where  the  stranger 
now  stood  some  aged  people  remembered  that  old 
Michael  Johnson  had  formerly  kept  his  book  stall. 
The  little  children  who  had  once  bought  picture 
books  of  him  were  grandfathers  now. 

"  Yes  ;  here  is  the  very  spot !  "  muttered  the  old 
gentleman  to  himself. 

There  this  unknown  personage  took  his  stand  and 
removed  the  three-cornered  hat  from  his  head.  It  was 
the  busiest  hour  of  the  day.  What  with  the  hum  of 
human  voices,  the  lowing  of  cattle,  the  squeaking  of 
pigs,  and  the  laughter  caused  by  the  merryandrew, 
the  market-place  was  in  very  great  confusion.  But 
the  stranger  seemed  not  to  notice  it  any  more  than 
if  the  silence  of  a  desert  were  around  him.  He  was 
rapt  in  his  own  thoughts.  Sometimes  he  raised  his 
furrowed  brow  to  heaven,  as  if  in  prayer ;  sometimes 


48  BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 

he  bent  his  head,  as  if  an  insupportable  weight  of  sor- 
row were  upon  him.  It  increased  the  awfulness  of  his 
aspect  that  there  was  a  motion  of  his  head  and  an 
almost  continual  tremor  throughout  his  frame,  with 
singular  twitchinsrs  and  contortions  of  his  features. 

The  hot  sun  blazed  upon  his  unprotected  head ; 
but  he  seemed  not  to  feel  its  fervor.  A  dark  cloud 
swept  across  the  sky  and  raindrops  pattered  into 
ihe  market-place ;  but  the  stranger  heeded  not  the 
shower.  The  people  began  to  gaze  at  the  mysterious 
old  gentleman  with  superstitious  fear  and  wonder. 
Who  could  he  be  ?  Whence  did  he  come  ?  Where- 
fore was  he  standing  bareheaded  in  the  market- 
place ?  Even  the  schoolboys  left  the  merryandrew 
and  came  to  gaze,  with  wide-open  eyes,  at  this  tall, 
strange-looking  old  man. 

There  was  a  cattle  drover  in  the  village  who  had 
recently  made  a  journey  to  the  Smithfield  market,  in 
London.  No  sooner  had  this  man  thrust  his  way 
through  the  throng  and  taken  a  look  at  the  unknown 
personage  than  he  whispered  to  one  of  his  acquaint- 
ances,— 

"  I  say,  neighbor  Hutchins,  would  ye  like  to  know 
who  this  old  gentleman  is  ?  " 

"  Ay,  that  I  would,"  replied  neighbor  Hutchins 
"  for  a  queerer  chap  I  never  saw  in  my  life.      Some- 
how it  makes  me  feel  small  to  look  at  him.     HeV 
more  than  a  common  man." 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES.  49 

"  You  may  well  say  so,"  answered  the  cattle 
drover.  "Why,  that's  the  famous  Doctor  Samuel 
Johnson,  who  they  say  is  the  greatest  and  learnedest 
man  in  England.  I  saw  him  in  London  streets, 
walking  with  one  Mr.  Boswell." 

Yes  ;  the  poor  boy,  the  friendless  Sam,  with  whom 
we  began  our  story,  had  become  the  famous  Doctor 
Samuel  Johnson.  He  was  universally  acknowledged  as 
the  wisest  man  and  greatest  writer  in  all  England. 
He  had  given  shape  and  permanence  to  his  native 
language  by  his  Dictionary.  Thousands  upon  thou- 
sands of  people  had  read  his  Idler,  his  Rambler,  and 
his  Rasselas.  Noble  and  wealthy  men  and  beautiful 
ladies  deemed  it  their  highest  privilege  to  be  his  com- 
panions. Even  the  King  of  Great  Britain  had  sought 
his  acquaintance,  and  told  him  what  an  honor  he 
considered  it  that  such  a  man  had  been  born  in  his 
dominions.  He  was  now  at  the  summit  of  literary 
renown. 

But  all  his  fame  could  not  extinguish  the  bitter  re  > 
membrance  which  had  tormented  him  through  life. 
Never,  never  had  he  forgotten  his  father's  sorrowful 
and  upbraiding  look.  Never,  though  the  old  man's 
troubles  had  been  over  so  many  years,  had  he  forgiven 
himself  for  inflicting  such  a  pang  upon  his  heart. 
And  now,  in  his  old  age,  he  had  come  hither  to  do 
penance,  by  standing  at  noonday,  in  the  market-place 
of  Uttoxeter,  on  the  very  spot  where  Michael  Johnsorj 


50  BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 

had  once  kept  his  book  stall.  The  aged  and  illustrious 
man  had  done  what  the  poor  boy  refused  to  do.  By 
thus  expressing  his  deep  repentance  and  humiliation 
of  heart,  he  hoped  to  gain  peace  of  conscience  and 
the  forgiveness  of  God. 

My  dear  children,  if  you  have  grieved  (I  will  not 
say  your  parents,  but  if  you  have  grieved)  the  heart 
of  any  human  being  who  has  a  claim  upon  your  love, 
then  think  of  Samuel  Johnson's  penance.  Will  it 
not  be  better  to  redeem  the  error  now  than  to  endure 
the  agoriy  of  remorse  for  fifty  years  ?  "Would  you 
not  rather  say  to  a  brother,  "  I  have  erred ;  forgive 
me  !  "  than  perhaps  to  go  hereafter  and  shed  bitter 
tears  upon  his  grave  ? 

Hardly  was  the  story  concluded  when  George  has- 
tily arose,  and  Edward  likewise,  stretching  forth  his 
hands  into  the  darkness  that  surrounded  him  to  find 
his  brother.  Both  accused  themselves  of  unkindness  ; 
each  besought  the  other's  forgiveness  ;  and  having 
done  so,  the  trouble  of  their  hearts  vanished  away  like 
a  dream. 

"I  am  glad!  I  am  so  glad!"  said  Emily,  in  a 
low,  earnest  voice.  "  Xow  I  shall  sleep  quietly  to- 
night." 

"  My  sweet  child,"  thought  Mrs.  Temple  as  she 
kissed  her,  "mayest  thou  never  know  how  much 
strife  there  is  on  earth !  It  would  cost  thee  many  a 
night's  rest." 


CHAPTEE    VI. 

About  this  period  Mr.  Temple  found  it  necessary 
to  take  a  journey,  which  interrupted  the  series  of 
Biographical  Stories  for  several  evenings.  In  the 
interval,  Edward  practised  various  methods  of  em- 
ploying and  amusing  his  mind. 

Sometimes  he  meditated  upon  beautiful  objects 
which  he  had  formerly  seen,  until  the  intensity  of 
his  recollection  seemed  to  restore  him  the  gift  of 
sight  and  place  every  thing  anew  before  his  eyes. 
Sometimes  he  repeated  verses  of  poetry  which  he 
did  not  know  to  be  in  his  memory  until  he  found 
them  there  just  at  the  time  of  need.  Sometimes 
he  attempted  to  solve  arithmetical  questions  which 
had  perplexed  him  while  at  school. 

Then,  with  his  mother's  assistance,  he  learned  the 
letters  of  the  string  alphabet,  which  is  used  in  some 
of  the  institutions  for  the  blind  in  Europe.  "When 
one  of  his  friends  gave  him  a  leaf  of  St.  Mark's  Gos- 
pel, printed  in  embossed  characters,  he  endeavored 


52  BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 

to  read  it  by  passing  his  fingers  over  the  letters  m 
blind   children  do. 

His  brother  George  was  now  very  kind,  and  spent 
so  much  time  in  the  darkened  chamber  that  Edward 
often  insisted  upon  his  going  out  to  play.  George 
told  him  all  about  the  affairs  at  school,  and  related 
many  amusing  incidents  that  happened  among  his 
comrades,  and  informed  him  what  sports  were  now  in 
fashion,  and  whose  kite  soared  the  highest,  and  whose 
little  ship  sailed  fleetest  on  the  Frog  Pond.  As  for 
Emily,  she  repeated  stories  which  she  had  learned 
from  a  new  book  called  The  Flower  People,  in 
which  the  snowdrops,  the  violets,  the  columbines, 
the  roses,  and  all  that  lovely  tribe  are  represented  as 
telling  their  secrets  to  a  little  girl.  The  flowers 
talked  sweetly,  as  flowers  should ;  and  Edward  al- 
most fancied  that  he  could  behold  their  bloom  and 
smell  their  fragrant  breath. 

Thus,  in  one  way  or  another,  the  dark  days  of 
Edward's  confinement  passed  not  unhappily.  In  due 
time  his  father  returned ;  and  the  next  evening,  when 
the  family  were  assembled,  he  began  a  story. 

"I  must  first  observe,  children,"  said  he,  "that 
oorae  writers  deny  the  truth  of  the  incident  which  1 
am  about  to  relate  to  you.  There  certainly  is  but 
little  evidence  in  favor  of  it.  Other  respectable 
writers,  however,  tell  it  for  a  fact ;  and,  at  all  events 
U  is  au  interesting  story,  and  has  an  excellent  moral.' 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES.  53 

So  Mr.  Temple  proceeded  to  talk  about  the  early 
days  of 

OLIVER    CROMWELL. 

Bon*  1599.    Died  1658. 

Not  long  after  King.  James  I.  took  the  place  of 
Queen  Elizabeth  on  the  throne  of  England,  there 
lived  an  English  knight  at  a  place  called  Hinchin- 
brooke.  His  name  was  Sir  Oliver  Cromwell.  He 
spent  his  life,  I  suppose,  pretty  much  like  other  Eng- 
lish knights  and  squires  in  those  days,  hunting  hares 
and  foxes  and  drinking  large  quantities  of  ale  and 
wine.  The  old  house  in  which  he  dwelt  had  been 
occupied  by  his  ancestors  before  him  for  a  good  many 
years.  In  it  there  was  a  great  hall,  hung  round  with 
coats  of  arms  and  helmets,  cuirasses  and  swords, 
which  his  forefathers  had  used  in  battle,  and  with 
horns  of  deer  and  tails  of  foxes  which  they  or  Sir 
Oliver  himself  had  killed  in  the  chase. 

This  Sir  Oliver  Cromwell  had  a  nephew,  who  had 
been  called  Oliver,  after  himself,  but  who  was  gener- 
ally known  in  the  family  by  the  name  of  little  Noll. 
His  father  was  a  younger  brother  of  Sir  Oliver.  The 
child  was  often  sent  to  visit  his  uncle,  who  probably 
found  him  a  troublesome  little  fellow  to  take  care  of. 
He  was  forever  in  mischief,  and  always  running  into 
some  danger  or  other,  from  which  he  seemed  to 
escape  only  by  miracle. 


54  BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 

Even  while  he  was  an  infant  in  the  cradle  a  strange 
accident  had  befallen  him.  A  huge  ape,  which  was 
kept  in  the  family,  snatched  up  little  Noll  in  his  fore 
paws  and  clambered  with  him  to  the  roof  of  the  house. 
There  this  ugly  beast  sat  grinning  at  the  affrighted 
spectators,  as  if  it  had  done  the  most  praiseworthy 
thing  imaginable.  Fortunately,  however,  he  brought 
the  child  safe  down  again ;  and  the  event  was  after- 
wards considered  an  omen  that  Noll  would  reach  a 
very  elevated  station  in  the  world. 

One  morning,  when  Noll  was  five  or  six  years  old, 
a  royal  messenger  arrived  at  Hinchinbrooke  with 
tidings  that  King  James  was  coming  to  dine  with  Sir 
Oliver  Cromwell.  This  was  a  high  honor,  to  be  sure, 
but  a  very  great  trouble  ;  for  all  the  lords  and  ladies, 
knights,  squires,  guards  and  yeomen,  who  waited  on 
the  king,  were  to  be  feasted  as  well  as  himself ;  and 
more  provisions  would  be  eaten  and  more  wine  drunk 
m  that  one  day  than  generally  in  a  month.  How- 
ever, Sir  Oliver  expressed  much  thankfulness  for  the 
king's  intended  visit,  and  ordered  his  butler  and  cook 
to  make  the  best  preparations  in  their  power.  So  a 
great  fire  was  kindled  in  the  kitchen  ;  and  the  neigh- 
bors knew  by  the  smoke  which  poured  out  of  the 
chimney  that  boiling,  baking,  stewing,  roasting,  and 
frying  v>'ere  going  on   merrily. 

By  and  by  the  sound  of  trumpets  was  heard  ap- 
proaching  nearer    and    nearer ;    and    a    heavy,   old- 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES.  55 

fashioned  coach,  surrounded  by  guards  on  horseback, 
drove  up  to  the  house.  Sir  Oliver,  with  his  hat  in 
his  hand,  stood  at  the  gate  to  receive  the  king.  His 
majesty  was  dressed  in  a  suit  of  green  not  very  new : 
he  had  a  feather  in  his  hat  and  a  triple  ruff  round 
his  neck,  and  over  his  shoulder  was  slung  a  hunting 
horn  instead  of  a  sword.  Altogether  he  had  not  the 
most  dignified  aspect  in  the  world ;  but  the  spectators 
gazed  at  him  as  if  there  was  something  superhuman 
and  divine  in  his  person.  They  even  shaded  their 
eyes  with  their  hands,  as  if  they  were  dazzled  by  the 
glory  of  his  countenance. 

"  How  are  ye,  man  ?  "  cried  King  James,  speak- 
ing in  a  Scotch  accent ;  for  Scotland  was  his  native 
country.  "  By  my  crown,  Sir  Oliver,  but  I  am  glad 
to  see  ye  !  " 

The  good  knight  thanked  the  king ;  at  the  same 
time  kneeling  down  while  his  majesty  alighted. 
When  King  James  stood  on  the  ground,  he  directed 
Sir  Oliver's  attention  to  a  little  boy  who  had  come 
with  him  in  the  coach.  He  was  six  or  seven  years 
old,  and  wore  a  hat  and  feather,  and  was  more  richly 
ilressed  than  the  king  himself.  Though  by  no  means 
an  ill-looking  child,  he  seemed  shy,  or  even  sulky  ; 
and  his  cheeks  were  rather  pale,  as  if  he  had  been 
kept  moping  within  doors,  instead  of  being  sent  out 
to  play  in  the  sun  and  wind. 

"  I  have  brought  my  son  Charlie  to  see  ye,"  said 


56  BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 

the  king.  "  I  hope,  Sir  Oliver,  ye  have  a  son  of 
your  own  to  be  his  playmate." 

Sir  Oliver  Cromwell  made  a  reverential  bow  to  the 
little  prince,  whom  one  of  the  attendants  had  now 
taken  out  of  the  coach.  It  was  wonderful  to  see  how 
all  the  spectators,  even  the  aged  men  with  their  gray 
beards,  humbled  themselves  before  this  child.  They 
bent  their  bodies  till  their  beards  almost  swept  the 
dust.  They  looked  as  if  they  were  ready  to  kneel 
down  and  worship  him. 

The  poor  little  prince !  From  his  earliest  infancy 
cot  a  soul  had  dared  to  contradict  him ;  every  body 
around  him  had  acted  as  if  he  were  a  superior  being  ; 
so  that,  of  course,  he  had  imbibed  the  same  opinion 
of  himself.  He  naturally  supposed  that  the  whole 
kingdom  of  Great  Britain  and  all  its  inhabitants  had 
been  created  solely  for  his  benefit  and  amusement. 
This  was  a  sad  mistake  ;  and  it  cost  him  dear  enough 
after  he  had  ascended  his  father's  throne. 

"  What  a  noble  little  prince  he  is  !  "  exclaimed  Sir 
Oliver,  lifting  his  hands  in  admiration.  "  No,  please 
your  majesty,  I  have  no  son  to  be  the  playmate  of 
his  royal  highness  ;  but  there  is  a  nephew  of  mine 
some  where  about  the  house.  He  is  near  the  prince's 
age,  and  will  be  but  too  happy  to  wait  upon  his  royal 
highness." 

"  Send  for  him,  man !  send  for  him !  "  said  the 
king. 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES.  57 

But,  as  it  happened,  there  was  no  need  of  sending 
for  Master  Noll.  While  King  James  was  speaking, 
a  rugged,  boldfaced,  sturdy  little  urchin  thrust  him- 
self through  the  throng  of  courtiers  and  attendants 
and  greeted  the  prince  with  a  broad  stare.  His 
doublet  and  hose  (which  had  been  put  on  new  and 
clean  in  honor  of  the  king's  visit)  were  already  soiled 
and  torn  with  the  rough  play  in  which  he  had  spent 
the  morning.  He  looked  no  more  abashed  than  if 
King  James  were  his  uncle  and  the  prince  one 
of  his  customary  playfellows. 

This  was  little  Noll  himself. 

"  Here,  please  your  majesty,  is  my  nephew,"  said 
Sir  Oliver,  somewhat  ashamed  of  Noll's  appearance 
and  demeanor.  "  Oliver,  make  your  obeisance  to  the 
king's  majesty." 

The  boy  made  a  pretty  respectful  obeisance  to  the 
king ;  for  in  those  days  children  were  taught  to  pay 
reverence  to  their  elders.  King  James,  who  prided 
himself  greatly  on  his  scholarship,  asked  Noll  a  few 
questions  in  the  Latin  grammar,  and  then  introduced 
him  to  his  son.  The  little  prince,  in  a  very  grave 
ind  dignified  manner,  extended  his  hand,  not  for  Noll 
to  shake,  but  that  he  might  kneel  down  and  kiss  it. 

"  Nephew,"  said  Sir  Oliver,  "  pay  your  duty  to 
the  prince." 

"  I  owe  him  no  duty,"  cried  Noll,  thrusting  aside 
the  prince's  hand  with  a  rude  laugh.  "  Why  should 
I  kiss  that  boy's  hand  ?  " 


58  BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 

All  the  courtiers  were  amazed  and  confounded, 
and  Sir  Oliver  the  most  of  all.  But  the  king  laughed 
heartily,  saying,  that  little  Noll  had  a  stubborn  Eng- 
lish spirit,  and  that  it  was  well  for  his  son  to  learn 
betimes  what  sort  of  a  people  he  was  to  rule  over. 

So  King  James  and  his  train  entered  the  house  ; 
and  the  prince,  with  Noll  and  some  other  children, 
was  sent  to  play  in  a  separate  room  while  his  majesty 
was  at  dinner.  The  young  people  soon  became  ac- 
quainted ;  for  boys,  whether  the  sons  of  monarchs 
or  of  peasants,  all  like  play,  and  are  pleased  with  one 
another's  society.  What  games  they  diverted  them- 
selves with  I  cannot  tell.  Perhaps  they  played  at 
ball  —  perhaps  at  blindman's  buff — perhaps  at  leap 
frog  —  perhaps  at  prison  bars.  Such  games  have  been 
in  use  for  hundreds  of  years ;  and  princes  as  well  as 
poor  children  have  spent  some  of  their  happiest  hours 
in  playing  at  them. 

Meanwhile  King  James  and  his  nobles  were  feast- 
ing with  Sir  Oliver  in  the  great  hall.  The  king  sat 
in  a  gilded  chair,  under  a  canopy,  at  the  head  of  a 
long  table.  Whenever  any  of  the  company  addressed 
him,  it  was  with  the  deepest  reverence.  If  the  at- 
tendants offered  him  wine  or  the  various  delicacies 
of  the  festival,  it  was  upon  their  bended  knees.  You 
would  have  thought,  by  these  tokens  of  worship, 
that  the  monarch  was  a  supernatural  being  ;  only  he 
eeemed  to  have  quite  as  much  need  of  those  vulgar 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES.  59 

matters,  food  and  drink,  as  any  other  person  at  the 
table.  But  fate  had  ordained  that  good  King  James 
should  not  finish  his  dinner  in  peace. 

All  of  a  sudden  there  arose  a  terrible  uproar  in  the 
room  where  the  children  were  at  play.  Angry  shouts 
and  shrill  cries  of  alarm  were  mixed  up  together  ; 
while  the  voices  of  elder  persons  were  likewise  heard, 
trying  to  restore  order  among  the  children.  The 
king  and  every  body  else  at  table  looked  aghast ; 
for  perhaps  the  tumult  made  them  think  that  a  gen- 
eral rebellion  had  broken  out. 

"  Mercy  on  us !  "  muttered  Sir  Oliver ;  "  that 
graceless  nephew  of  mine  is  in  some  mischief  or 
other.     The  naughty  little  whelp  !  " 

Getting  up  from  table,  he  ran  to  see  whav  was 
the  matter,  followed  by  many  of  the  guests,  and  the 
king  among  them.  They  all  crowded  to  the  door  of 
the  play  room. 

On  looking  in,  they  beheld  the  little  Prince  Charles, 
with  his  ricn  dress  all  torn  and  covered  with  the  dust 
of  the  flooi\  His  royal  blood  was  streaming  from  his 
nose  in  great  abundance.  He  gazed  at  Noll  with  a 
mixture  of  rage  and  affright,  and  at  the  same  time  a 
puzzled  expression,  as  if  he  could  not  understand  how 
any  mortal  boy  should  dare  to  give  him  a  beating. 
As  for  Xoll,  there  stood  his  sturdy  little  figure,  bold 
as  a  lion,  looking  as  if  he  were  ready  to  fight,  not 
only  the  prince,  but  the  king  and  kingdom  too. 


60  BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 

"  You  little  villain !  "  cried  his  uncle.  "  What 
have  you  been  about  ?  Down  on  your  knees,  this 
instant,  and  ask  the  prince's  pardon.  How  dare  you 
lay  your  hands  on  the  king's  majesty's  royal  son  ?  " 

"  He  struck  me  first,"  grumbled  the  valiant  little 
Noll ;  "  and  I've  only  given  him  his  due." 

Sir  Oliver  and  the  guests  lifted  up  their  hands  in 
astonishment  and  horror.  No  punishment  seemed 
severe  enough  for  this  wicked  little  varlet,  who  had 
dared  to  resent  a  blow  from  the  king's  own  son. 
Some  of  the  courtiers  were  of  opinion  that  Noll 
should  be  sent  prisoner  to  the  Tower  of  London  and 
brought  to  trial  for  high  treason.  Others,  in  their 
great  zeal  for  the  king's  service,  were  about  to  lay 
hands  on  the  boy  and  chastise  him  in  the  royal 
presence. 

But  King  James,  who  sometimes  showed  a  good 
deal  of  sagacity,  ordered  them  to  desist. 

"  Thou  art  a  bold  boy,"  said  he,  looking  fixedly  at 
little  Noll ;  "  and,  if  thou  live  to  be  a  man,  my  son 
Charlie  would  do  wisely  to  be  friends  with  thee." 

"  I  never  will  !  "  cried  the  little  prince,  stamping 
his  foot. 

"  Peace,  Charlie,  peace  !  "  said  the  king  ;  then  ad- 
dressing Sir  Oliver  and  the  attendants,  "  Harm  not 
the  urchin  ;  for  he  has  taught  my  son  a  good  lesson, 
is  Heaven  do  but  give  him  grace  to  profit  by  it 
Hereafter,  should  he  be  tempted  to  tyrannize  over 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES.  61 

« 

the  stubborn  race  of  Englishmen,  let  him  remember 
little  Noll  Cromwell  and  his  own  bloody  nose." 

So  the  king  finished  his  dinner  and  departed ;  and 
for  many  a  long  year  the  childish  quarrel  between 
Prince  Charles  and  Noll  Cromwell  was  forgotten. 
The  prince,  indeed,  might  have  lived  a  happier  life, 
and  have  met  a  more  peaceful  death,  had  he  remem- 
bered that  quarrel  and  the  moral  which  his  father 
drew  from  it.  But  when  old  King  James  was  dead, 
and  Charles  sat  upon  his  throne,  he  seemed  to  forget 
that  he  was  but  a  man,  and  that  his  meanest  subjects 
were  men  as  well  as  he.  He  wished  to  have  the 
property  and  lives  of  the  people  of  England  entirely 
at  his  own  disposal.  Bat  the  Puritans,  and  all  who 
loved  liberty,  rose  against  him,  and  beat  him  in  many 
battles,  and  pulled  him  down  from  his  throne. 

Throughout  this  war  between  the  king  and  nobles 
on  one  side  and  the  people  of  England  on  the  other 
there  was  a  famous  leader,  who  did  more  towards  the 
ruin  of  royal  authority  than  all  the  rest.  The  ccn- 
test  seemed  like  a  wrestling  match  between  King 
Charles  and  this  strong  man.  And  the  king  was 
overthrown. 

When  the  discrowned  monarch  was  brought  to 
trial,  that  warlike  leader  sat  in  the  judgment  hall. 
Many  judges  were  present  besides  himself;  but  he 
ilone  had  the  power  to  save  King  Charles  or  to 
doom  him  to  the  scaffold.      After  sentence  was  pro- 


62  BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 

nounced,  this  victorious  general  was  entreated  by  his 
own  children,  on  their  knees,  to  rescue  his  majesty 
from  death. 

"  No  !  "  said  he,  sternly.  "  Better  that  one  man 
should  perish  than  that  the  whole  country  should 
be  ruined  for  his  sake.  It  is  resolved  that  he  shall 
die  !  " 

When  Charles,  no  longer  a  king,  was  led  to  the 
scaffold,  his  great  enemy  stood  at  a  window  of  the 
royal  palace  of  Whitehall.  He  beheld  the  poor  vic- 
tim of  pride,  and  an  evil  education,  and  misused 
power,  as  he  laid  his  head  upon  the  block.  He 
looked  on  with  a  steadfast  gaze  while  a  black-veiled 
executioner  lifted  the  fatal  axe  and  smote  off  that 
anointed  head  at  a  single  blow. 

"  It  is  a  righteous  deed,"  perhaps  he  said  to  him- 
self.     "  Now  Englishmen  may  enjoy  their  rights." 

At  night,  when  the  body  of  Charles  was  laid  in 
the  coffin,  in  a  gloomy  chamber,  the  general  entered, 
lighting  himself  with  a  torch.  Its  gleam  showed  that 
he  was  now  growing  old ;  his  visage  was  scarred 
with  the  many  battles  in  which  he  had  led  the  van  : 
his  brow  was  wrinkled  with  care  and  with  the  continual 
exercise  of  stern  authority.  Probably  there  was  not 
a  single  trait,  either  of  aspect  or  manner,  that  be- 
longed to  the  little  Noll  who  had  battled  so  stoutly 
with  Prince  Charles.     Yet  this  was  he  ! 

He  lifted  the  coffin  lid,  and  caused  the  light  of  his 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STOKIES.  63 

torch  to  fall  upon  the  dead  monarch's  face.  Then, 
probably,  his  mind  went  back  over  all  the  marvellous 
events  that  had  brought  the  hereditary  King  of  Eng- 
land to  this  dishonored  coffin,  and  had  raised  himself, 
a  humble  individual,  to  the  possession  of  kingly 
power.  He  was  a  king,  though  without  the  empty 
title  or  the  glittering  crown. 

"  Why  was  it,"  said  Cromwell  to  himself,  or 
might  have  said,  as  he  gazed  at  the  pale  features  in 
the  coffin,  —  "  why  was  it  that  this  great  king  fell, 
and  that  poor  Noll  Cromwell  has  gained  all  the  power 
of  the  realm  ?  " 

And,  indeed,  why  was  it  ? 

King  Charles  had  fallen,  because,  in  his  manhood 
the  same  as  when  a  child.,  he  disdained  to  feel  that 
every  human  creature  was  his  brother.  He  deemed 
himself  a  superior  being,  and  fancied  that  his  sub- 
jects were  created  only  for  a  king  to  rule  over.  And 
Cromwell  rose,  because,  in  spite  of  his  many  faults, 
he  mainly  fought  for  the  rights  and  freedom  of  his 
fellow-men  ;  and  therefore  the  poor  and  the  oppressed 
all  lent  their  strength  to  him. 

tc  Dear  father,  how  I  should  hate  to  be  a  king  !  " 
exclaimed  Edward. 

"And  would  you  like  to  be  a  Cromwell  ?  "  in- 
quired his  father. 

<  I  should  like  it  well,"  replied  George  ;  "  only  I 


64  BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 

would  not  have  put  the  poor  old  king  to  death.  I 
would  have  sent  him  out  of  the  kingdom,  or  perhaps 
have  allowed  him  to  live  in  a  small  house  near  the 
gate  of  the  royal  palace.  It  was  too  severe  to  cut 
off  his  head." 

"  Kings  are  in  such  an  unfortunate  position,"  said 
Mr.  Temple,  "  that  they  must  either  be  almost  deified 
by  their  subjects,  or  else  be  dethroned  and  beheaded. 
In  either  case  it  is  a  pitiable  lot." 

"  O,  I  had  rather  be  blind  than  be  a  king !  "  said 
Edward. 

"Well,  my  dear  Edward,"  observed  his  mother, 
with  a  smile,  "  I  am  glad  you  are  convinced  that  your 
own  lot  is  not  the  hardest  in  the  world." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

It  was  a  pleasant  sight,  for  those  who  had  eyes, 
to  see  how  patiently  the  blinded  little  boy  now  sub- 
mitted to  what  he  had  at  first  deemed  an  intolerable 
calamity.  The  beneficent  Creator  has  not  allowed  our 
comfort  to  depend  on  the  enjoyment  of  any  single 
sense.  Though  he  has  made  the  world  so  very  beau- 
tiful, yet  it  is  possible  to  be  happy  without  ever  be- 
holding the  blue  sky,  or  the  green  and  flowery  earth, 
or  the  kind  faces  of  those  whom  we  love.  Thus  it 
appears  that  all  the  external  beauty  of  the  universe 
is  a  free  gift  from  God  over  and  above  what  is  neces- 
sary to  our  comfort.  How  grateful,  then,  should  we 
be  to  that  divine  Benevolence,  which  showers  even 
superfluous  bounties  upon  us ! 

One  truth,  therefore,  which  Edward's  blindness 
had  taught  him  was,  that  his  mind  and  soul  could 
dispense  with  the  assistance  of  his  eyes.  Doubtless, 
however,  he  would  have  found  this  lesson  far  more 
difficult  to  learn  had  it  not  been  for  the  affection  of 
those  around  him.  His  parents,  and  George  and 
Emily,  aided  him  to  bear  his  misfortune;  if  possible, 
they  would  have  lent  him  their  own  eyes.     And  this 


66  BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIE3. 

too,  was  a  good  lesson  for  him.  It  taught  him  how 
dependent  on  one  another  God  has  ordained  us  to 
be,  insomuch  that  all  the  necessities  of  mankind 
should  incite  them  to  mutual  love. 

So  Edward  loved  his  friends,  and  perhaps  all  the 
world,  better  than  he  ever  did  before.  And  he  felt 
grateful  towards  his  father  for  spending  the  evenings 
in  telling  him  stories  —  more  grateful,  probably,  than 
any  of  my  little  readers  will  feel  towards  me  for  so 
carefully  writing  these  same  stories  down. 

"  Come,  dear  father,"  said  he,  the  pext  evening, 
"now  tell  us  about  some  other  little  hoy  who  was 
destined  to  be  a  famous  man." 

"  How  would  you  like  a  story  of  a  Boston  boy  ?  '" 
asked  his  father. 

"  O,  pray  let  us  have  it !  "  cried  George,  eagerly. 
"  It  will  be  all  the  better  if  he  has  been  to  our  schools, 
and  has  coasted  on  the  Common,  and  sailed  boats  in  the 
Frog  Pond.     I  shall  feel  acquainted  with  him  then.'' 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Mr.  Temple,  "  I  will  introduce 
you  to  a  Boston  boy  whom  all  the  world  became  ac- 
quainted with  after  he  grew  to  be  a  man." 

The  story  was  as  follows  :  — 

BENJAMIN   FRANKLIN. 
Bo*w  1706.    Died  1790. 

In  the  year  1716,  or  about  that  period,  a  boy  used 
to  be  seen  in  the  streets  of  Boston  who  was  known 


BIOGRAPHICAL   STORIES.  67 

among  his  schoolfellows  and  playmates  by  the  name 
of  Ben  Franklin.  Ben  was  born  in  1706  ;  so  that 
he  was  now  about  ten  years  old.  His  father,  who 
had  come  over  from  England,  was  a  soap  boiler  and 
tallow  chandler,  and  resided  in  Milk  Street,  not  fat 
from  the  Old  South  Church. 

Ben  was  a  bright  boy  at  his  book,  and  even  a 
brighter  one  when  at  play  with  his  comrades.  He 
had  some  remarkable  qualities  which  always  seemed 
to  give  him  the  lead,  whether  at  sport  or  in  more 
serious  matters.  I  might  tell  you  a  number  of  amus- 
ing anecdotes  about  him.  You  are  acquainted,  I 
suppose,  with  his  famous  story  of  the  Whistle,  and 
how  he  bought  it  with  a  whole  pocket  full  of  coppers 
and  afterwards  repented  of  his  bargain.  But  Ben 
had  grown  a  great  boy  since  those  days,  and  had 
gained  wisdom  by  experience ;  for  it  was  one  of  his 
peculiarities,  that  no  incident  ever  happened  to  him 
without  teaching  him  some  valuable  lesson.  Thus 
he  generally  profited  more  by  his  misfortunes  than 
many  people  do  by  the  most  favorable  events  that 
could  befall  them. 

Ben's  face  was  already  pretty  well  known  to  the 
inhabitants  of  Boston.  The  selectmen  and  other 
people  of  note  often  used  to  visit  his  father,  for  the 
sake  of  talking  about  the  affairs  of  the  town  or  prov- 
ince. Mr.  Franklin  was  considered  a  person  of  great 
wisdom  and  integrity,  and  was  respected  by  all  who 


68  BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 

knew  him,  although  he  supported  his  family  by  the 
humble  trade  of  boiling  soap  and  making  tallow 
candles. 

While  his  father  and  the  visitors  were  holding  deep 
consultations  about  public  affairs,  little  Ben  would  sit 
on  his  stool  in  a  corner,  listening  with  the  greatest 
interest,  as  if  he  understood  every  word.  Indeed, 
his  features  were  so  full  of  intelligence  that  there 
could  be  but  little  doubt,  not  only  that  he  understood 
what  was  said,  but  that  he  could  have  expressed  some 
very  sagacious  opinions  out  of  his  own  mind.  But 
in  those  days  boys  were  expected  to  be  silent  in  the 
presence  of  their  elders.  However,  Ben  Franklin 
was  looked  upon  as  a  very  promising  lad,  who  would 
talk  and  act  wisely  by  and  by. 

"Neighbor  Franklin,"  his  father's  friends  would 
sometimes  say,  "  you  ought  to  send  this  boy  to  col- 
lege and  make  a  minister  of  him." 

"  I  have  often  thought  of  it,"  his  father  would  re- 
ply ;  "  and  my  brother  Benjamin  promises  to  give 
him  a  great  many  volumes  of  manuscript  sermons, 
in  case  he  should  be  educated  for  the  church.  But 
I  have  a  large  family  to  support,  and  cannot  afford 
the  expense." 

In  fact,  Mr.  Franklin  found  it  so  difficult  to  pro- 
vide bread  for  his  family,  that,  when  the  boy  was  ten 
years  old,  it  became  necessary  to  take  him  from 
school.     Ben  was  then  employed  in  cutting  candle 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES.  69 

wicks  into  equal  lengths  and  filling  the  moulds  with 
tallow  ,  and  many  families  in  Boston  spent  their  even- 
ings by  the  light  of  the  candles  which  he  had  helped 
to  make.  Thus,  you  see,  in  his  early  days,  as  well 
as  in  his  manhood,  his  labors  contributed  to  throw 
light  upon  dark  matters. 

Busy  as  his  life  now  was,  Ben  still  found  time  to 
keep  company  with  his  former  schoolfellows.  He 
and  the  other  boys  were  very  fond  of  fishing,  and 
spent  many  of  their  leisure  hours  on  the  margin  of 
the  mill  pond,  catching  flounders,  perch,  eels,  and 
tomcod,  which  came  up  thither  with  the  tide.  The 
place  where  they  fished  is  now,  probably,  covered  with 
stone  pavements  and  brick  buildings,  and  thronged 
with  people  and  with  vehicles  of  all  kinds.  But 
at  that  period  it  was  a  marshy  spot  on  the  outskirts 
of  the  town,  where  gulls  flitted  and  screamed  over- 
head and  salt  meadow  grass  grew  under  foot. 

On  the  edge  of  the  water  there  was  a  deep  bed  of 
clay,  in  which  the  boys  were  forced  to  stand  while 
they  caught  their  fish.  Here  they  dabbled  in  mud 
and  mire  like  a  flock  of  ducks. 

"  This  is  very  uncomfortable,"  said  Ben  Franklin 
one  day  to  his  comrades,  while  they  were  standing 
mid-leg  deep  in  the  quagmire. 

"  So  it  is,"  said  the  other  boys.  "  "What  a  pity  we 
have  no  better  place  to  stand  !  " 

If  it  had  not  been  for  Ben,  nothing  more  would 


70  BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 

have  been  done  or  said  about  the  matter.  But  it  was 
not  in  his  nature  to  be  sensible  of  an  inconvenience 
without  using  his  best  efforts  to  find  a  remedy.  So, 
as  he  and  his  comrades  were  returning  from  the 
water  side,  Ben  suddenly  threw  down  his  string  of 
fish  with  a  very  determined  air. 

'*  Boys,"  cried  he,  "  I  have  thought  of  a  scheme 
which  will  be  greatly  for  our  benefit  and  for  the 
public  benefit." 

It  was  queer  enough,  to  be  sure,  to  hear  this  little 
chap  —  this  rosy-cheeked,  ten-year-old  boy  —  talking 
about  schemes  for  the  public  benefit !  Nevertheless, 
his  companions  were  ready  to  listen,  being  assured 
that  Ben's  scheme,  whatever  it  was,  would  be  well 
worth  their  attention.  They  remembered  how  saga- 
ciously he  had  conducted  all  their  enterprises  ever 
since  he  had  been  old  enough  to  wear  smallclothes. 

They  remembered,  too,  his  wonderful  contrivance 
of  sailing  across  the  mill  pond  by  lying  flat  on  his 
back  in  the  water  and  allowing  himself  to  be  drawn 
along  by  a  paper  kite.  If  Ben  could  do  that,  he 
might  certainly  do  any  thing. 

"  What  is  your  scheme,  Ben  ?  —  what  is  it  ?  " 
cried  they  all. 

It  so  happened  that  they  had  now  come  to  a  spot 
of  ground  where  a  new  house  was  to  be  built.  Scat- 
tered round  about  lay  a  great  many  large  stones 
which  were  to  be  used  for  the  cellar  and  foundation. 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES.  71 

Ben  mounted  upon  the  highest  of  these   stones,  so 
that  he  might  speak  with  the  more  authority. 

c<  You  know,  lads,"  said  he,  "  what  a  plague  it  is 
to  be  forced  to  stand  in  the  quagmire  yonder  —  over 
shoes  and  stockings  (if  we  wear  any)  in  mud  and 
water.  See  !  I  am  bedaubed  to  the  knees  of  my 
smallclothes;  and  you  are  all  in  the  same  pickle. 
Unless  we  can  find  some  remedy  for  this  evil,  our  fish- 
ing business  must  be  entirely  given  up.  And,  sure- 
ly, this  would  be  a  terrible  misfortune !  " 

"  That  it  would !  that  it  would !  "  said  his  com- 
rades, sorrowfully. 

"  Now,  I  propose,"  continued  Master  Benjamin, 
"  that  we  build  a  wharf,  for  the  purpose  of  carrying 
on  our  fisheries.  You  see  these  stones.  The  work- 
men mean  to  use  them  for  the  underpinning  of  a 
house ;  but  that  would  be  for  only  one  man's  advan- 
tage. My  plan  is  to  take  these  same  stones  and  car- 
ry them  to  the  edge  of  the  water  and  build  a  wharf 
with  them.  This  will  not  only  enable  us  to  carry  on 
the  fishing  business  with  comfort  and  to  better  advan- 
tage, but  it  will  likewise  be  a  great  convenience  to 
boats  passing  up  and  down  the  stream.  Thus,  instead 
of  one  man,  fifty,  or  a  hundred,  or  a  thousand,  besides 
ourselves,  may  be  benefited  by  these  stones.  What 
gay  you,  lads  ?     Shall  we  build  the  wharf?  " 

Ben's  proposal  was  received  with  one  of  those  up- 
roarious shouts  wherewith  boys  usually  express  theii 


72  BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 

delight  at  whatever  completely  suits  their  views.  No- 
body thought  of  questioning  the  right  and  justice  of 
building  a  wharf  with  stones  that  belonged  to  another 
person. 

"  Hurrah !  hurrah !  "  shouted  they.  "  Let's  set 
about  it." 

It  was  agreed  that  they  should  all  be  on  the  spot 
that  evening  and  commence  their  grand  public  enter- 
prise by  moonlight.  Accordingly,  at  the  appointed 
time,  the  whole  gang  of  youthful  laborers  assembled, 
and  eagerly  began  to  remove  the  stones.  They  had 
not  calculated  how  much  toil  would  be  requisite  in 
this  important  part  of  their  undertaking.  The  very 
first  stone  which  they  laid  hold  of  proved  so  heavy 
that  it  almost  seemed  to  be  fastened  to  the  ground. 
Nothing  but  Ben  Franklin's  cheerful  and  resolute 
spirit  could  have  induced  them  to  persevere. 

Ben,  as  might  be  expected,  was  the  soul  of  the 
enterprise.  By  his  mechanical  genius,  he  contrived 
methods  to  lighten  the  labor  of  transporting  the  stones, 
so  that  one  boy,  under  his  directions,  would  perform 
as  much  as  half  a  dozen  if  left  to  themselves.  When- 
ever their  spirits  flagged  he  had  some  joke  ready, 
which  seemed  to  renew  their  strength,  by  setting  them 
all  into  a  roar  of  laughter.  And  when,  after  an  hour 
or  two  of  hard  work,  the  stones  were  transported  to 
the  water  side,  Ben  Franklin  was  the  engineer  to  su- 
perintend the  construction  of  the  wharf. 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES.  73 

The  boys,  like  a  colony  of  ants,  performed  a  great 
leal  of  labor  by  their  multitude,  though  the  individ- 
ual strength  of  each  could  have  accomplished  but  lit- 
tle. Finally,  just  as  the  moon  sank  below  the  horizon, 
the  great  work  was  finished. 

"  Now,  boys,"  cried  Ben,  "  let's  give  three  cheers 
and  go  home  to  bed.  To-morrow  we  may  catch  fish 
at  our  ease." 

"  Hurrah !  hurrah  !  hurrah !  "  shouted  his  com- 
rades. 

Then  they  all  went  home  in  such  an  ecstasy  of  de- 
light that  they  could  hardly  get  a  wink  of  sleep. 

The  story  was  not  yet  finished ;  but  George's  im- 
patience caused  him  to  interrupt  it. 

"  How  I  wish  that  I  could  have  helped  to  build 
that  wharf !  "  exclaimed  he.  "  It  must  have  been 
glorious  fun.     Ben  Franklin  forever,  say  I." 

"  It  was  a  very  pretty  piece  of  work,"  said  Mr.  Tem- 
ple.    "  But  wait  till  you  hear  the  end  of  the  story." 

"  Father,"  inquired  Edward,  "  whereabouts  in 
Boston  was  the  mill  pond  on  which  Ben  built  his 
wharf?" 

"  I  do  not  exactly  know,"  answered  Mr.  Temple  ; 
"  but  I  suppose  it  to  have  been  on  the  northern  verge 
of  the  town,  in  the  vicinity  of  what  are  now  called 
Merrimack  and  Charlestown  Streets.  That  thronged 
portion  of  the  city  was  once  a  marsh.  Some  of  it, 
in  fact,  was  covered  with  water." 


CHAPTEE  VIII. 

As  the  children  had  no  more  questions  to  ask,  Mr. 
Temple  proceeded  to  relate  what  consequences  en- 
sued from  the  building  of  Ben  Franklin's  wharf. 

BENJAMIN    FRANKLIN. 

Continued. 

In  the  morning,  when  the  early  sunbeams  were 
gleaming  on  the  steeples  and  roofs  of  the  town  and 
gilding  the  water  that  surrounded  it,  the  masons 
came,  rubbing  their  eyes,  to  begin  their  work  at  the 
foundation  of  the  new  house.  But,  on  reaching  the 
spot,  they  rubbed  their  eyes  so  much  the  harder. 
What  had  become  of  their  heap  of  stones  ? 

"  Why,  Sam,"  said  one  to  another,  in  gi'eat  per- 
plexity, "  here  's  been  some  witchcraft  at  work  while 
we  were  asleep.  The  stones  must  have  flown  away 
.hrough  the  air  !  " 

"  More  likely  they  have  been  stolen !  "  answered 
Sam, 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES.  /O 

l*  But  ■who  on  earth  would  think  of  stealing  a  heap 
of  stones  ? "  cried  a  third.  "  Could  a  man  carry 
them  away  iu  his  pocket  ?  " 

The  master  mason,  who  was  a  gruff  kind  of  man, 
stood  scratching  his  head,  and  said  nothing  at  first. 
But,  looking  carefully  on  the  ground,  he  discerned 
innumerable  tracks  of  little  feet,  some  with  shoes 
and  some  barefoot.  Following  these  tracks  with  his 
eye,  he  saw  that  they  formed  a  beaten  path  towards 
the  water  side. 

"Ah,  I  see  what  the  mischief  is,"  said  he,  nod- 
ding his  head.  "  Those  little  rascals,  the  boys,  —  they 
have  stolen  our  stones  to  build  a  wharf  with ! " 

The  masons  immediately  went  to  examine  the  new 
structure.  And  to  say  the  truth,  it  was  well  worth 
looking  at,  so  neatly  and  with  such  admirable  skill 
had  it  been  planned  and  finished.  The  stones  were 
put  together  so  securely  that  there  was  no  danger 
of  their  being  loosened  by  the  tide,  however  swiftly 
it  might  sweep  along.  There  was  a  broad  and  safe 
platform  to  stand  upon,  whence  the  little  fishermen 
might  cast  their  lines  into  deep  water  and  draw  up 
fish  in  abundance.  Indeed,  it  almost  seemed  as  if 
Ben  and  his  comrades  might  be  forgiven  for  taking 
the  stones,  because  they  had  done  their  job  in  such  a 
workmanlike  manner. 

"  The  chaps  that  built  this  wharf  understood  their 
buiiness  pretty  well,"  said  one  of  the  masons.     "I 


76  BIOGB  4.PHICAL    STORIES. 

should  not  be  ashamed  of  such  a  piece  of  woik 
myself." 

But  the  master  mason  did  not  seem  to  enjoy  the 
joke.  He  was  one  of  those  unreasonable  people 
who  care  a  great  deal  more  for  their  own  rights  and 
privileges  than  for  the  convenience  of  all  the  rest  of 
the  world. 

"  Sam,"  said  he,  more  gruffly  than  usual,  "  go  call 
a  constable." 

So  Sam  called  a  constable,  and  inquiries  were  set 
on  foot  to  discover  the  perpetrators  of  the  theft.  In 
the  course  of  the  day  warrants  were  issued,  with  the 
signature  of  a  justice  of  the  peace,  to  take  the  bodies 
of  Benjamin  Franklin  and  other  evil-disposed  per- 
sons who  had  stolen  a  heap  of  stones.  If  the  owner 
of  the  stolen  property  had  not  been  more  merciful 
than  the  master  mason,  it  might  have  gone  hard  with 
our  friend  Benjamin  and  his  fellow-laborers.  But, 
luckily  for  them,  the  gentleman  had  a  respect  for 
Ben's  father,  and,  moreover,  was  amused  with  the 
spirit  of  the  whole  affair.  He  therefore  let  the  cul- 
prits off  pretty  easily. 

But,  when  the  constables  were  dismissed,  the  poor 
boys  had  to  go  through  another  trial,  and  receive 
sentence,  and  suffer  execution,  too,  from  their  own 
fathers.  Many  a  rod,  I  grieve  to  say,  was  worn  to 
the  stump  on  that  unlucky  night. 

As  for  Ben,  he  was  less  afraid  of  a  whipping  than 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES.  77 

of  his  father's  disapprobation.  Mr.  Franklin,  as  I 
have  mentioned  before,  was  a  sagacious  man,  and  also 
an  inflexibly  upright  one.  He  had  read  much  for  a 
person  in  his  rank  of  life,  and  had  pondered  upon  the 
ways  of  the  world,  until  he  had  gained  more  wisdom 
than  a  whole  library  of  books  could  have  taught  him. 
Ben  had  a  greater  reverence  for  his  father  than  for 
any  other  person  in  the  world,  as  well  on  account  of 
his  spotless  integrity  as  of  his  practical  sense  and 
deep  views  of  things. 

Consequently,  after  being  released  from  the  clutches 
of  the  law,  Ben  came  into  his  father's  presence  with 
no  small  perturbation  of  mind. 

.  "Benjamin,  come  hither,"  began  Mr.  Franklin,  in 
his  customary  solemn  arid  weighty  tone. 

The  boy  approached  and  stood  before  his  father's 
chair,  waiting  reverently  to  hear  what  judgment  this 
good  man  would  pass  upon  his  late  offence.  He  felt 
that  now  the  right  and  wrong  of  the  whole  matter 
would  be  made  to  appear. 

"  Benjamin,"  said  his  father,  "  what  could  induce 
you  to  take  property  which  did  not  belong  to  you  ?  " 

"Why,  father,"  replied  Ben,  hanging  his  head  at 
first,  but  then  lifting  his  eyes  to  Mr.  Franklin's  face, 
*  if  it  had  been  merely  for  my  own  benefit,  I  never 
should  have  dreamed  of  it.  But  I  knew  that  the 
wharf  would  be  a  public  convenience.  If  the  owner 
of  the  stones  should  build  a  house  with  them,  no- 


78  BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 

Dody  will  enjoy  any  advantage  except  himself.  Now, 
I  made  use  of  them  in  a  way  that  was  for  the  advan- 
tage of  many  persons.  I  thought  it  right  to  aim  at 
doing  good  to  the  greatest  number." 

"  My  son,"  said  Mr.  Franklin,  solemnly,  "  so  far 
as  it  was  in  your  power,  you  have  done  a  greater 
harm  to  the  public  than  to  the  owner  of  the  stones." 

"  How  can  that  be,  father  ?  "  asked  Ben. 

"  Because,  answered  his  father,  "  in  building  your 
wharf  with  stolen  materials,  you  have  committed  a 
moral  wrong.  There  is  no  more  terrible  mistake 
than  to  violate  what  is  eternally  right  for  the  sake  of 
a  seeming  expediency.  Those  who  act  upon  such  a 
principle  do  the  utmost  in  their  power  to  destroy  all 
that  is  good  in  the  world." 

"  Heaven  forbid  !  "  said  Benjamin. 

"No  act,"  continued  Mr.  Franklin,  "can  possibly 
be  for  the  benefit  of  the  public  generally  which  in- 
volves injustice  to  any  individual.  It  would  be  easy 
to  prove  this  by  examples.  But,  indeed,  can  we 
suppose  that  our  all-wise  and  just  Creator  would 
have  so  ordered  the  affairs  of  the  world  that  a  wrong 
act  should  be  the  true  method  of  attaining  a  right 
end  ?  It  is  impious  to  think  so.  And  I  do  verily 
believe,  Benjamin,  that  almost  all  the  public  and 
private  misery  of  mankind  arises  from  a  neglect  of 
this  great  truth  —  that  evil  can  produce  only  evil 
—  that  good  ends  must  be  wrought  out  by  good 
means." 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 


79 


'•  I  will  never  forget  it  again,"  said  Benjamin, 
bowing  his  head. 

"  Remember,"  concluded  his  father,  "  that,  when- 
ever we  vary  from  the  highest  rule  of  right,  just  so 
far  we  do  an  injury  to  the  world.  It  may  seem  oth- 
erwise for  the  moment ;  but,  both  in  time  and  in 
eternity,  it  will  be  found  so." 

To  the  close  of  his  life  Ben  Franklin  never  forgot 
this  conversation  with  his  father ;  and  we  have  rea- 
son to  suppose  that,  in  most  of  his  public  and  pri- 
vate career,  he  endeavored  to  act  upon  the  principles 
which  that  good  and  wise  man  had  then  taught  him. 

After  the  great  event  of  building  the  wharf,  Ben 
continued  to  cut  wick  yarn  and  fill  candle  moulds  for 
about  two  years.  But,  as  he  had  no  love  for  that 
occupation,  his  father  often  took  him  to  see  various 
artisans  at  their  work,  in  order  to  discover  what  trade 
he  would  prefer.  Thus  Ben  learned  the  use  of  a 
great  many  tools,  the  knowledge  of  which  afterwards 
proved  very  useful  to  him.  But  he  seemed  much 
inclined  to  go  to  sea.  In  order  to  keep  him  at  home, 
and  likewise  to  gratify  his  taste  for  letters,  the  lad 
was  bound  apprentice  to  his  elder  brother,  who  had 
lately  set  up  a  printing  office  in  Boston. 

Here  he  had  many  opportunities  of  reading  new 
books  and  of  hearing  instructive  conversation.  He 
exercised  himself  so  successfully  in  writing  composi- 
tion, that,  when  no  more  than  thirteen  or  fourteen 


80  BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 

years  old,  he  became  a  contributor  to  his  brother's 
newspaper.  Ben  was  also  a  versifier,  if  not  a  poet. 
He  made  two  doleful  ballads  —  one  about  the  ship- 
wreck of  Captain  Worthilake ;  and  the  other  about 
the  pirate  Black  Beard,  who,  not  long  before,  in- 
fested the  American  seas. 

When  Ben's  verses  were  printed,  his  brother  sent 
him  to  sell  them  to  the  townspeople  wet  from  the 
press.  *'•  Buy  my  ballads !  "  shouted  Benjamin,  as 
he  trudged  through  the  streets  with  a  basket  full  on 
his  arm.  "Who'll  buy  a  ballad  about  Black  Beard? 
A  penny  apiece !  a  penny  apiece !  Who'll  buy  my 
ballads  ?  " 

If  one  of  those  roughly  composed  and  rudely 
printed  ballads  could  be  discovered  now,  it  would  be 
worth  more  than  its  weight  in  gold. 

In  this  way  our  friend  Benjamin  spent  his  boyhood 
and  youth,  until,  on  account  of  some  disagreement 
with  his  brother,  he  left  his  native  town  and  went  to 
Philadelphia.  He  landed  in  the  latter  city,  a  home- 
less and  hungry  young  man,  and  bought  threepence 
worth  of  bread  to  satisfy  his  appetite.  Not  knowing 
where  else  to  go,  he  entered  a  Quaker  meeting  house, 
sat  down,  and  fell  fast  asleep.  He  has  not  told  us 
whether  his  slumbers  were  visited  by  any  dreams. 
But  it  would  have  been  a  strange  dream,  indeed,  and 
an  incredible  one,  that  should  have  foretold  how  great 
a  man  he  was  destined  to  become,  and  how  much  he 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES.  81 

would  be  honored  in  that  very  city  where  he  was 
now  friendless  and  unknown. 

So  here  we  finish  our  story  of  the  childhood  of 
Benjamin  Franklin.  One  of  these  days,  if  you 
would  know  what  he  was  in  his  manhood,  you  must 
read  his  own  works  and  the  history  of  American  in- 
dependence. 

"  Do  let  us  hear  a  little  more  of  him !  "  said  Ed- 
ward ;  "  not  that  I  admire  him  so  much  as  many 
other  characters  ;  but  he  interests  me,  because  he  wa3 
a  Yankee  boy." 

"  My  dear  son,"  replied  Mr.  Temple,  "  it  would 
require  a  whole  volume  of  talk  to  tell  you  all  that  is 
worth  knowing  about  Benjamin  Franklin.  There  is 
a  very  pretty  anecdote  of  his  flying  a  kite  in  the  midst 
of  a  thunder  storm,  and  thus  drawing  down  the  light- 
ning from  the  clouds  and  proving  that  it  was  the 
same  thing  as  electricity.  His  whole  life  would  be 
an  interesting  story,  if  we  had  time  to  tell  it." 

"  But,  pray,  dear  father,  tell  us  what  made  him  so 
famous/'  said  George.  "I  have  seen  his  portrait  a 
great  many  times.  There  is  a  wooden  bust  of  him 
in  one  of  our  streets ;  and  marble  ones,  I  suppose,  in 
some  other  places.  And  towns,  and  ships  of  war, 
and  steamboats,  and  banks,  and  academies,  and  chil- 
dren are  often  named  after  Franklin.  Why  should 
he  have  grown  so  very  famous  ?  " 

"Your  question  is  a  reasonable  one,  George,"  an- 


S2  BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 

swered  his  father.  "  I  doubt  whether  Franklin's 
philosophical  discoveries,  important  as  they  were,  or 
even  his  vast  political  services,  would  have  given  him 
all  the  fame  which  he  acquired.  It  appears  to  me 
that  Poor  Richard's  Almanac  did  more  than  any 
thing  else  towards  making  him  familiarly  known  to 
the  public.  As  the  writer  of  those  proverbs  which 
Poor  Richard  was  supposed  to  utter,  Franklin  be- 
came the  counsellor  and  household  friend  of  almost 
every  family  in  America.  Thus  it  was  the  humblest 
of  all  his  labors  that  has  done  the  most  for  his  fame." 

"  I  have  read  some  of  those  proverbs,"  remarked 
Edward ;  "  but  I  do  not  like  them.  They  are  all 
about  getting  money  or  saving  it." 

"Well,"  said  his  father,  "  they  were  suited  to  the 
condition  of  the  country ;  and  their  effect,  upon  the 
whole,  has  doubtless  been  good  —  although  they 
teach  men  but  a  very  small  portion  of  their  duties.  * 


CHAPTER    IX. 

Hitherto  Mr.  Temple's  narratives  had  all  been 
about  boys  and  men.  But,  the  next  evening,  he  be- 
thought himself  that  the  quiet  little  Emily  would 
perhaps  be  glad  to  hear  the  story  of  a  child  of  her 
own  sex.  He  therefore  resolved  to  narrate  the 
youthful  adventures  of  Christina,  of  Sweden,  who 
began  to  be  a  queen  at  the  age  of  no  more  than  six 
years.  If  we  have  any  little  girls  among  our  readers, 
they  must  not  suppose  that  Christina  is  set  before 
them  as  a  pattern  of  what  they  ought  to  be.  On  the 
contrary,  the  tale  of  her  life  is  chiefly  profitable  as 
showing  the  evil  effects  of  a  wrong  education,  which 
caused  this  daughter  of  a  king  to  be  both  useless  and 
unhappy.     Here  follows  the  story. 

QUEEN     CHRISTINA. 

horn  162G     Dub  1G89. 

In  the  royal  palace  at  Stockholm,  the  capital  city 
of  Sweden,  there  was  born,  in  1626,  a  little  princess 


84  BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 

The  king,  her  father,  gave  her  the  name  of  Christina, 
in  memory  of  a  Swedish  girl  with  whom  he  had  been 
in  love.  His  own  name  was  Gustavus  Adolphus ; 
and  he  was  also  called  the  Lion  of  the  North,  because 
he  had  gained  greater  fame  in  war  than  any  other 
prince  or  general  then  alive.  With  this  valiant  king 
for  their  commander,  the  Swedes  had  made  them- 
selves terrible  to  the  Emperor  of  Germany  and  to 
the  King  of  France,  and  were  looked  upon  as  the 
chief  defence  of  the  Protestant  religion. 

The  little  Christina  was  by  no  means  a  beautiful 
child.  To  confess  the  truth,  she  was  remarkably 
plain.  The  queen,  her  mother,  did  not  love  her  so 
much  as  she  ought ;  partly,  perhaps,  on  account  of 
Christina's  want  of  beauty,  and  also  because  both 
the  king  and  queen  had  wished  for  a  son,  who  might 
have  gained  as  great  renown  in  battle  as  his  father 
had. 

The  king,  however,  soon  became  exceedingly  fond 
of  the  infant  princess.  When  Christina  was  very 
young  she  was  taken  violently  sick.  Gustavus  Adol- 
phus, who  was  several  hundred  miles  from  Stock- 
holm, travelled  night  and  day,  and  never  rested  until 
he  held  the  poor  child  in  his  arms.  On  her  recov- 
ery he  made  a  solemn  festival,  in  order  to  show  his 
joy  to  the  people  of  Sweden  and  express  his  grati 
tude  to  Heaven.  After  this  event  he  took  his  daugh- 
ter with  him  in  all  the  journeys  which  he  made 
throughout  his  kingdom. 


biographical  stories.  85 

Christina  soon  proved  herself  a  bold  and  sturdy 
little  girl.  When  she  was  two  years  old,  the  king 
and  herself,  in  the  course  of  a  journey,  came  to  the 
strong  fortress  of  Colmar.  On  the  battlements  were 
soldiers  clad  in  steel  armor,  which  glittered  in  the 
sunshine.  There  were  likewise  great  cannons,  point- 
ing their  black  mouths  at  Gustavus  and  little  Chris- 
tina, and  ready  to  belch  out  their  smoke  and  thun- 
der ;  for,  whenever  a  king  enters  a  fortress,  it  is  cus- 
tomary to  receive  him  with  a  royal  salute  of  artillery. 

But  the  captain  of  the  fortress  met  Gustavus  and 
his  daughter  as  they  were  about  to  enter  the  gateway. 

"  May  it  please  your  majesty,"  said  be,  taking  off 
his  steel  cap  and  bowing  profoundly,  "  I  fear  that,  if 
we  receive  you  with  a  salute  of  cannon,  the  little 
princess  will  be  frightened  almost  to  death." 

Gustavus  looked  earnestly  at  his  daughter,  and  was 
indeed  apprehensive  that  the  thunder  of  so  many 
cannon  might  perhaps  throw  her  into  convulsions. 
He  had  almost  a  mind  to  tell  the  captain  to  let  them 
enter  the  fortress  quietly,  as  common  people  might 
have  done,  without  all  this  head-splitting  racket. 
But  no ;    this  would  not  do. 

"  Let    them    fire,"    said    he,    waving    his    hand. 

Christina  is  a  soldier's  daughter,  and  must  learn 
to  bear  the  noise  of  cannon." 

So  the  captain  uttered  the  word  of  command,  and 
immediately  there  was  a  terrible  peal  of  thunder  from 


86  BIOGR  U'llICAl.    STORIES. 

the  cannon,  and  such  a  gush  of  smoke  that  it  enT el- 
oped the  "whole  fortress  in  its  volumes.  13  at,  amid 
all  the  din  and  confusion,  Christina  was  seen  clapping 
her  little  hands  and  laughing  in  an  ecstasy  of  de- 
light. Probably  nothing  ever  pleased  her  father  so 
much  as  to  see  that  his  daughter  promised  to  be  fear- 
less as  himself.  He  determined  to  educate  her  ex- 
actly as  if  she  had  been  a  boy,  and  to  teach  her  all 
the  knowledge  needful  to  the  ruler  of  a  kingdom  and 
the  commander  of  an  army. 

But  Gustavus  should  have  remembered  that  Prov- 
idence had  created  her  to  be  a  woman,  and  that  it 
was  not  for  him  to  make  a  man  of  her. 

However,  the  king  derived  great  happiness  from 
his  beloved  Christina.  It  must  have  been  a  pleasant 
sight  to  see  the  powerful  monarch  of  Sweden  playing 
in  some  magnificent  hall  of  the  palace  with  his  merry 
little  girl.  Then  he  forgot  that  the  weight  of  a  king- 
dom rested  upon  his  shoulders.  He  forgot  that  the 
wise  Chancellor  Oxenstiern  was  waiting  to  consult 
with  him  how  to  render  Sweden  the  greatest  nation 
of  Europe.  He  forgot  that  the  Emperor  of  Germany 
and  the  King  of  France  were  plotting  together  how 
they  might  pull  him  down  from  his  throne. 

Yes  ;  Gustavus  forgot  all  the  perils,  and  cares,  and 
pompous  irksomeness  of  a  royal  life  ;  and  was  as  hap- 
py, while  playing  with  his  child,  as  the  humblest 
peasant  in  the  realm  of  Sweden.     How  gayly  did 


BIOGRAPHICAL   STORIES.  87 

they  dance  along  the  marble  floor  of  the  palace,  this 
valiant  king,  with  his  upright,  martial  figure,  his 
war-worn  visage,  and  commanding  aspect,  and  the 
small,  round  form  of  Christina,  with  her  rosy  face  of 
childish  merriment !  Her  little  fingers  were  clasped 
in  her  father's  hand,  which  had  held  the  leading  staff 
in  many  famous  victories.  His  crown  and  sceptre 
were  her  playthings.  She  could  disarm  Gustavus  of 
his  sword,  which  was  so  terrible  to  the  princes  of 
Europe. 

But,  alas !  the  king  was  not  long  permitted  to  enjoy 
Christina's  society.  When  she  was  four  years  old 
Gustavus  was  summoned  to  take  command  of  the 
allied  armies  of  Germany,  which  were  fighting  against 
the  emperor.  His  greatest  affliction  was  the  neces- 
sity of  parting  with  his  child ;  but  people  in  such 
high  stations  have  but  little  opportunity  for  domestic 
happiness.  He  called  an  assembly  of  the  senators 
of  Sweden  and  confided  Christina  to  their  care,  say- 
ing, that  each  one  of  them  must  be  a  father  to  her  if 
he  himself  should  fall  in  battle. 

At  the  moment  of  his  departure  Christina  ran 
towards  him  and  began  to  address  him  with  a  speech 
which  somebody  had  taught  her  for  the  occasion. 
Gustavus  was  busied  with  thoughts  about  the  affairs 
of  the  kingdom,  so  that  he  did  not  immediately  at- 
tend to  the  childish  voice  of  his  little  girl.  Chris- 
tina, who  did  not  love  to  be  unnoticed,  immediately 
stopped  short  and  pulled  him  by  the  coat. 


88  BIOGRAPHICAL    SI  OKIES. 

"  Father,"  said  she,  "  why  do  not  you  listen  to 
my  speech  ?  " 

In  a  moment  the  king  forgot  every  thing  except 
that  he  was  parting  with  what  he  loved  best  in  all  the 
world.  He  caught  the  child  in  his  arms,  pressed  her 
to  his  bosom,  and  burst  into  tears.  Yes ;  though  he 
was  a  brave  man,  and  though  he  wore  a  steel  corselet 
on  his  breast,  and  though  armies  were  waiting  for 
him  to  lead  them  to  battle,  still  his  heart  melted 
within  him,  and  he  wept.  Christina,  too,  was  so 
afflicted  that  her  attendants  began  to  fear  that  she 
would  actually  die  of  grief.  But  probably  she  was 
soon  comforted ;  for  children  seldom  remember  their 
parents  quite  so  faithfully  as  their  parents  remember 
them. 

For  two  years  more  Christina  remained  in  the 
palace  at  Stockholm.  The  queen,  her  mother,  had 
accompanied  Gustavus  to  the  wars.  The  child,  there- 
fore, was  left  to  the  guardianship  of  five  of  the  wisest 
men  in  the  kingdom.  But  these  wise  men  knew  bet- 
ter how  to  manage  the  affairs  of  state  than  how  to 
govern  and  educate  a  little  girl  so  as  to  render  her  a 
good  and  happy  woman. 

When  two  years  had  passed  away,  tidings  were 
brought  to  Stockholm  which  filled  every  body  with 
triumph  and  sorrow  at  the  same  time.  The  Swedes 
had  won  a  glorious  victory  at  Lutzen.  But,  alas  !  the 
warlike  King  of  Sweden,  the  Lion  of  the  North,  the 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES.  89 

father  of  our  little  Christina,  had  been  slain  at  the 
foot  of  a  great  stone,  which  still  marks  the  spot  of 
that  hero's  death. 

Soon  after  this  sad  event,  a  general  assembly,  oi 
congress,  consisting  of  deputations  from  the  nobles, 
the  clergy,  the  burghers,  and  the  peasants  of  Sweden, 
was  summoned  to  meet  at  Stockholm.  It  was  for  the 
purpose  of  declaring  little  Christina  to  be  Queen  of 
Sweden  and  giving  her  the  crown  and  sceptre  of  her 
deceased  father.  Silence  being  proclaimed,  the 
Chancellor  Oxenstiern  arose. 

"  "VVe  desire  to  know,"  said  he,  "  whether  the  peo- 
ple of  Sweden  will  take  the  daughter  of  our  dead 
king,  Gustavus  Adolphus,  to  be  their  queen." 

When  the  chancellor  had  spoken,  an  old  man,  with 
white  hair  and  in  coarse  apparel,  stood  up  in  the 
midst  of  the  assembly.  He  was  a  peasant,  Lars  Larr- 
son  by  name,  and  had  spent  most  of  his  life  in  labor- 
ing on  a  farm. 

"  Who  is  this  daughter  of  Gustavus  ? "  asked  the 
old  man.  "  We  do  not  know  her.  Let  her  be 
shown  to  us." 

Then  Christina  was  brought  into  the  hall  and 
placed  before  the  old  peasant.  It  was  strange,  no 
doubt,  to  see  a  child  —  a  little  giif  of  six  years  old  — 
offered  to  the  Swedes  as  their  ruler  instead  of  the 
brave  king,  her  father,  who  had  led  them  to  victory 
10  many  times.     Could   her   baby  fingers  wield   a 


90  BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 

sword  in  war  ?  Could  her  childish  mind  govern  the 
nation  wisely  in  peace? 

But  the  Swedes  do  not  appear  to  have  asked  them- 
selves these  questions.  Old  Lars  Larrson  took 
Christina  up  in  his  arms  and  gazed  earnestly  into 
her  face.  He  had  known  the  great  Gustavus  well , 
and  his  heart  was  touched  when  he  saw  the  likeness 
which  the  little  girl  bore  to  that  heroic  monarch. 

"  Yes,"  cried  he,  with  the  tears  gushing  down  his 
furrowed  cheeks  ;  "  this  is  truly  the  daughter  of  our 
Gustavus  !  Here  is  her  father's  brow  !  —  here  is  hia 
piercing  eye  !  She  is  his  very  picture  !  This  child 
shall  be  our  queen!" 

Then  all  tbe  proud  nobles  of  Sweden,  and  the  rev- 
erend clergy,  and  the  burghers,  and  the  peasants, 
knelt  down  at  the  child's  feet  and  kissed  her  hand. 

"  Long  live  Christina,  Queen  of  Sweden  !  "  shouted 
they. 

Even  after  she  was  a  woman  grown  Christina  re- 
membered the  pleasure  which  she  felt  in  seeing  all 
these  men  at  her  feet  and  hearing  them  acknowledge 
her  as  their  supreme  ruler.  Poor  child !  she  was  yet 
to  learn  that  power  does  not  insure  happiness.  As 
yet,  however,  she  had  not  any  real  power.  All  the 
public  business,  it  is  true,  was  transacted  in  her  name  • 
but  the  kingdom  was  governed  by  a  number  of  the 
most  experienced  statesmen,  who  were  called  a  re- 
gency. 


I,    i       .  - 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STUlUES.  91 

But  it  was  considered  necessary  that  the  little 
queen  should  be  present  at  the  public  ceremonies,  and 
should  behave  just  as  if  she  were  in  reality  the  ruler 
of  the  nation.  When  she  was  seven  years  of  age, 
some  ambassadors  from  the  Czar  of  Muscovy  came  to 
the  Swedish  court.  They  wore  long  beards,  and  were 
clad  in  a  strange  fashion,  with  furs  and  other  out- 
landish ornaments  ;  and  as  they  were  inhabitants  of  a 
half-civilized  country,  they  did  not  behave  like  other 
people.  The  Chancellor  Oxenstiern  was  afraid  that 
the  young  queen  would  burst  out  a-laughiug  at  the 
first  sight  of  these  queer  ambassadors,  or  else  that 
6he  would  be  frightened  by  their  unusual  aspect. 

"  Why  should  I  be  frightened  ?  "  said  the  little 
queen.  "  And  do  you  suppose  that  I  have  no  bet- 
ter manners  than  to  laugh  ?  Only  tell  me  how  I  must 
behave,  and  I  will  do  it." 

Accordingly,  the  Muscovite  ambassadors  were  in- 
troduced ;  and  Christina  received  them  and  answered 
their  speeches  with  as  much  dignity  and  propriety 
as  if  she  had  been  a  grown  woman. 

All  this  time,  though  Christina  was  now  a  queen, 
you  must  not  suppose  that  she  was  left  to  act  as  she 
pleased.  She  had  a  preceptor,  named  John  Mathias, 
who  was  a  very  learned  man  and  capable  of  instruct- 
ing her  in  all  the  branches  of  science.  But  there 
Was  nobody  to  teach  her  the  delicate  graces  and  gen- 
tle virtues  of  a  woman.     She  was  surrounded  almost 


92  BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 

entirely  by  men,  and  had  learned  to  despise  the 
society  of  her  own  sex.  At  the  age  of  nine  year9 
she  was  separated  from  her  mother,  whom  the  Swedes 
did  not  consider  a  proper  person  to  be  intrusted  with 
the  charge  of  her.  No  little  girl  who  sits  by  a  New 
England  fireside  has  cause  to  envy  Christina  in  the 
royal  palace  at  Stockholm. 

Yet  she  made  great  progress  in  her  studies.  She 
learned  to  read  the  classical  authors  of  Greece  and 
Rome,  and  became  a  great  admirer  of  the  heroes  and 
poets  of  old  times.  Then,  as  for  active  exercises,  she 
could  ride  on  horseback  as  well  as  any  man  in  her 
kingdom.  She  was  fond  of  hunting,  and  could  shoot 
at  a  mark  with  wonderful  skill.  But  dancing  was 
the  only  feminine  accomplishment  with  which  she 
had  any  acquaintance. 

She  was  so  restless  in  her  disposition  that  none  of 
her  attendants  were  sure  of  a  moment's  quiet  neither 
day  nor  night.  She  grew  up,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  a 
very  unamiable  person,  ill  tempered,  proud,  stubborn, 
and,  in  short,  unfit  to  make  those  around  her  happy 
or  to  be  happy  herself.  Let  every  little  girl,  who 
has  been  taught  self-control  and  a  due  regard  for  the 
rights  of  others,  thank  Heaven  that  she  has  had  bet- 
ter instruction  than  this  poor  little  Queen  of  Sweden 

At  the  age  of  eighteen  Christina  was  declared  free 
to  govern  the  kingdom  by  herself  without  the  aid 
of  a  regency.     At  this  period  of  her  life  she  was  u 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES.  93 

young  woman  of  striking  aspect,  a  good  figure,  and 
intelligent  face,  but  very  strangely  dressed.  She  wore 
a  short  habit  of  gray  cloth,  with  a  man's  vest  over  it, 
and  a  black  scarf  around  her  neck ;  but  no  jewels  nor 
ornaments  of  any  kind. 

Yet,  though  Christina  was  so  negligent  of  her  ap- 
pearance, there  was  something  in  her  air  and  manner 
that  proclaimed  her  as  the  ruler  of  a  kingdom.  Her 
eyes,  it  is  said,  had  a  very  fierce  and  haughty  look. 
Old  General  Wrangel,  who  had  often  caused  the 
enemies  of  Sweden  to  tremble  in  battle,  actually 
trembled  himself  when  he  encountered  the  eyes  of 
the  queen.  But  it  would  have  been  better  for 
Christina  if  she  could  have  made  people  love  her,  by 
means  of  soft  and  gentle  looks,  instead  of  affright- 
ing them  by  such  terrible  glances. 

And  now  I  have  told  you  almost  all  that  is  amus- 
ing or  instructive  in  the  childhood  of  Christina. 
Only  a  few  more  words  need  be  said  about  her ;  for 
it  is  neither  pleasant  nor  profitable  to  think  of  many 
things  that  she  did  after  she  grew  to  be  a  woman. 

When  she  had  worn  the  crown  a  few  years,  sha 
began  to  consider  it  beneath  her  dignity  to  be  called 
a  queen,  because  the  name  implied  that  she  belonged 
to  the  weaker  sex.  She  therefore  caused  herself  to 
be  pi  r»claimed  king  ;  thus  declaring  to  the  world  that 
she  despised  her  own  sex  and  was  desirous  of  being 
ranked  among  men.     But  in  the  twenty -eighth  yeaj 


94  BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 

of  her  age  Christina  grew  tired  of  royalty,  and  re- 
solved to  be  neither  a  king  nor  a  queen  any  longer. 
She  took  the  crown  from  her  head  with  her  own 
hands,  and  ceased  to  be  the  ruler  of  Sweden.  The 
people  did  not  greatly  regret  her  abdication ;  for  she 
had  governed  them  ill,  and  had  taken  much  of  their 
property  to  supply  her  extravagance. 

Having  thus  given  up  her  hereditary  crown,  Chris- 
tina left  Sweden  and  travelled  over  many  of  the  coun- 
tries of  Europe.  Every  where  she  was  received 
with  great  ceremony,  because  she  was  the  daughter 
of  the  renowned  Gustavus  and  had  herself  been  a 
powerful  queen.  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  know 
something  about  her  personal  appearance  in  the  latter 
part  of  her  life.  She  is  described  as  wearing  a  man's 
vest,  a  short  gray  petticoat,  embroidered  with  gold 
and  silver,  and  a  black  wig,  which  was  thrust  awry 
upon  her  head.  She  wore  no  gloves,  and  so  seldom 
washed  her  hands  that  nobody  could  tell  what  had 
been  their  original  color.  In  this  strange  dress,  and, 
I  suppose,  without  washing  her  hands  or  face,  she 
visited  the  magnificent  court  of   Louis  XIV. 

She  died  in  1689.  None  loved  her  while  she  lived, 
nor  regretted  her  death,  nor  planted  a  single  flowei 
upon  her  grave.  Happy  are  the  little  girls  of  Amer- 
ica, who  are  brought  up  quietly  and  tenderly  at  the 
domestic  hearth,  and  thus  become  gentle  and  delicate 
women !     May  none  of  them  ever  lose  the  loveliness 


biographical   stories.  95 

of  their  sex   by  receiving  such  an  education  as  that 
of  Queen  Christina ! 

Emily,  timid,  quiet,  and  sensitive,  was  the  very 
reverse  of  little  Christina.  She  seemed  shocked  at 
the  idea  of  such  a  bold  and  masculine  character  aa 
has  been  described  in  the  foregoing  story. 

"  I  never  could  have  loved  her,"  whispered  she  to 
Mrs.  Temple  ;  and  then  she  added,  with  that  love  of 
personal  neatness  which  generally  accompanies  purity 
of  heart,  "  It  troubles  me  to  think  of  her  unclean 
hands !  " 

"  Christina  was  a  sad  specimen  of  womankind  in- 
deed," said  Mrs.  Temple.  "  But  it  is  very  possible 
for  a  woman  to  have  a  strong  mind,  and  to  be  fitted 
for  the  active  business  of  life,  without  losing  any  of 
her  natural  delicacy.  Perhaps  some  time  or  other 
Mr.  Temple  will  tell  you  a  story  of  such  a  woman." 

It  was  now  time  for  Edward  to  be  left  to  repose. 
His  brother  George  shook  him  heartily  by  the  hand, 
and  hoped,  as  he  had  hoped  twenty  times  before,  that 
to-morrow  or  the  next  day  Ned's  eyes  would  be  strong 
enough  to  look  the  sun  right  in  the  face. 

"  Thank  you,  George,"  replied  Edward,  smiling  ; 
"  but  I  am  not  half  so  impatient  as  at  first.  If  my 
bodily  eyesight  were  as  good  as  yours,  perhaps  I 
could  not  see  things  so  distinctly  with  my  mind's 
eye.     But  now  there  is  a  light  within  which  ehowt 


96  BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES. 

me  the  little  Quaker  artist,  Ben  West,  and  Isaac 
Newton  with  his  windmill,  and  stubborn  Sam  Johnson, 
and  stout  Noll  Cromwell,  and  shrewd  Ben  Frank- 
lin, and  little  Queen  Christina,  with  the  Swedes 
kneeling  at  her  feet.  It  seems  as  if  I  really  saw 
these  personages  face  to  face.  So  I  can  bear  the 
darkness  outside  of  me  pretty  well." 

When  Edward  ceased  speaking,  Emily  put  up  her 
mouth  and  kissed  him  as  her  farewell  for  the  night. 

"  Ah,  I  forgot !  "  said  Edward,  with  a  sigh.  "  I 
cannot  see  any  of  your  faces.  What  would  it  sig- 
nify to  see  all  the  famous  people  in  the  world,  if  I 
must  be  blind  to  the  faces  that  I  love  ?  " 

"  You  must  try  to  see  us  with  your  heart,  my 
dear  child,"   said  his  mother. 

Edward  went  to  bed  somewhat  dispirited ;  but, 
quickly  falling  asleep,  was  visited  with  such  a  pleas- 
ant dream  of  the  sunshine  and  of  his  dearest  friends 
that  he  felt  the  happier  for  it  all  the  next  day.  And 
we  hope  to  find  him  still  happy  when  we  meet  again. 


This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last 
date  stamped  below 


DEC  2  2  1958 


m 


NOV  g  1 


NOV  2 11969 


ID      RPR 
URL 


*5 


J  NT 


LiiiH.  * 


MAR 


ION 


\c3it- 


WEEKS 
RENEWABLE 


975 

RY    LOANS 


m 


OMDMEOFRECEOa 


&pri 


iW 


3m-6,'50  (550)470 


<fe    lllllllllll 

llllliil 

3   1158  0(5017""5845 


A  A      000  087  550   o 


